


The Darkness Before the Dawn

by Ren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Case Fic, Enemies to Lovers, H/D Pet Fair 2016, HP: EWE, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild Blood and Gore, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Plotty, Wizarding London, nundu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren/pseuds/Ren
Summary: A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to the mods for running this wonderful fest, and to my lovely prompter for the inspiration! Thanks Mollie for her input and encouragement. Most importantly, a HUGE thank you to Evy who swept in and saved my butt by betaing this monster of a fic in record time. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> No thanks whatsoever to the Fantastic Beasts film for putting a Nundu in their trailer when I'd already written most of the story. Rude. As a result, my Nundu might be significantly different from canon Nundus, but since we're already in EWE territory, _whatever_.
> 
> The fic contains brief descriptions of dead bodies, as well as blatant disregard for anything resembling police procedure.
> 
> For [Prompt #16](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Td1Xj4ZNIqFDdQLtMpkOWEqn2hI5TEx8tEtrEU1u1U8/edit).
> 
> Edit (22 Dec 2016): some changes to the wording here and there, and I moved a snippet of conversation to a later scene because the pacing was bothering me.

"With all due respect, sir," Harry said, "this has got to be a joke."

Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Department and Harry's boss, stared at him with unsmiling grey eyes. "I'm perfectly serious, Potter," he said in his mournful voice. "If I recall correctly, it was you who first suggested the idea to me."

"I did," Harry admitted. "However…"

"Like you reminded me for the past week, loudly and repeatedly," Robards said with a pointed look, "this is a very delicate situation and we would benefit from the assistance of a colleague from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"But I didn't think it would be _him_!" Harry exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger.

Draco Malfoy, their liaison from the Beast Division, glared right back at him, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that he seemed about to vomit. The cause for Malfoy's discomfort was the body lying in the middle of the alley. It was not a pretty sight. Few things about Harry's current case were pretty.

"It does seem… peculiar that they would send Mr Malfoy of all people," Robards said, pursing his lips. "I did stress the confidential nature of our case."

He glanced at Malfoy, who immediately straightened up. "I'm aware of that, Auror Robards," Malfoy said. "I'm to report exclusively to the Aurors for the duration of this assignment. All information about the case is classified. I will relay none of it to my own department unless I obtain your permission beforehand." He reeled it off as if he were reciting a lesson. Harry seethed.

Robards, however, seemed satisfied. "Good," he said. "Discretion is paramount – it would be a disaster if the _Prophet_ caught wind of it. As for your, er, _background_ …"

In the corner of his vision Harry thought he saw Malfoy flinch, but when he took a better look, Malfoy looked just as arrogant and insufferable as always. Maybe just a bit queasy from the lingering smell of death.

"I assume," Robards told Malfoy, "that when you joined they put you through all the usual tests. Made sure you're on the straight and narrow now."

"They did," Malfoy replied. "In fact, I believe that they designed some new tests especially for me."

"Yes, well," Robards said. "The Ministry doesn't have many employees who bear the Dark Mark."

"No." Malfoy's voice was flat.

"Sir," Harry tried again, "this is really not necessary, if I could have more time to work on the case–"

"Enough, Potter!" Robards cut him off, turning around to face him. Even though it was a hot summer morning he had a black cloak drawn tightly around his shoulders, and for a moment the sight reminded Harry of a carrion bird. "I know the two of you were at school together, and I know… well, you know what I refer to. I trust you won't let your _mutual history_ get in the way of doing your work." His eyes spoke volumes.

"Of course not, sir," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Glad to hear that," Robards said, sounding anything but. "Because Mr Malfoy is here now and you two _will_ work together on this. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Perfectly clear," Malfoy chimed in, his lips curling into a slight sneer. He was enjoying the sight of Harry getting chewed out, the wanker.

Robards seemed satisfied with that. He patted the pockets of his robe, eventually producing a large, round pocket watch with many different dials. "I have a meeting with the Minister in five minutes. Brief Mr Malfoy on the case, then process the crime scene. I expect to see a report on my desk by the time I get back from lunch."

"Yes, sir," Harry said again. It seemed best not to test Robards' patience any longer, at least not in front of Malfoy.

Robards gave the two of them a brisk nod, then set off towards the mouth of the alley. "Before lunch!" he repeated.

Then, with a crack, Robards Disapparated. Harry could just stare at the overflowing trash bin next to where he'd stood.

"Right," Harry snapped. "Let's get to work. Don't touch anything if you're not wearing gloves, and try not to be sick over my crime scene."

He took some perverse pleasure in the way Malfoy's face drained of all remaining colour. Apart from a long, horrified stare when he'd stepped into the alley, Malfoy had taken care to look everywhere but at the victim.

Maybe, Harry thought with a sudden burst of optimism, it was too much for him. The scene was pretty gruesome, even for Auror standards, with pieces of the victim splattered all over the asphalt. Harry himself was glad he'd skipped breakfast because the stench was starting to get to him. Maybe Malfoy wouldn't be able to cope and he'd ask to return to whatever boring job he had in the Beast Division.

Malfoy pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and swallowed convulsively. "Aren't you going to brief me first?" he asked. No doubt he was stalling for time, trying to postpone the moment he'd have to look at the victim's wounds up close to determine which kind of beast had caused them.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked.

"Everything," Malfoy replied.

Harry snorted. The roll of parchment with the dossier on the case was already several feet long and growing daily, and there were plenty of additional details that Harry hadn't thought important enough for the dossier but had still committed to memory. It would take him hours to truly bring Malfoy up to speed, and he couldn't afford to waste the time, not even to see Malfoy squirm as he shared the grislier details of the previous attacks.

"This is the third attack in two weeks," Harry said, curt. "Same wounds, same level of overkill. There doesn't seem to be any pattern to the attacks. The first two victims were in wizarding areas of London: one in Half Moon Street and the other off Knockturn Alley. And now this in the middle of Camden. I've been going through the records of all documented creature attacks for the past fifty years but nothing matches _this_." He gestured towards the sad remains of the unknown witch. "Which is where your expertise comes in," Harry concluded, with just the hint of a smirk.

It was a very succinct briefing, but Malfoy didn't need to know more. It wasn't as if he was going to be of any real help. Aside from looking like he was going to be sick at any moment, Malfoy's appointment to the Beast Division had to be pretty recent. Harry hadn't heard anything about it until today, and usually Ron and his family kept him well informed about Ministry gossip.

Shitty personality aside, Malfoy was going to be useless at best and a liability at worst. Harry mentally cursed Robards for saddling him with his old nemesis. Why hadn't Robards insisted with the other department to get a liaison with more expertise? Even Malfoy's dark green robes looked brand new and immaculate and quite unsuited to the field – the polar opposite of Harry's own faded robes which had seen a fair amount of sweat and mud and blood in their time.

As Malfoy showed no interest in approaching the victim's body, Harry tried to pay him no mind and concentrated on the crime scene in front of him. The victim lay sprawled on her back in the middle of the alley in a pool of dried blood. Female, likely middle-aged – it was impossible to tell anything more, because the body had been torn apart with such violence that she was barely recognisable.

Harry stepped towards the body, taking care not to trod over any of the blood splattered on the asphalt. From the shape of a larger smear next to the mouth of the alley, he guessed that the victim had been attacked there and then been dragged several feet before being finished off. Harry judged that she was about halfway between the entrance of the alley and the brick wall at the other end. A blue plastic sheet now closed off the entrance of the alley, and there were warding spells as well as a sign warning Muggles to keep out because of ongoing road works.

Bending over to take a closer look, Harry noted that the wounds definitely matched those of the earlier victims. The marks on the victim's face and torso looked like they'd been left with a sharp, jagged knife. Her ribcage had been broken open. Not many creatures were capable of this level of overkill: whatever killed this woman had been very vicious.

"Who found her?"

Harry glanced back over his shoulder. Lost in his thoughts, he had almost forgotten Malfoy was still here. "A Muggle dog walker," he replied, absently, his mind still on what was in front of him. Which creature had left those marks? "A local woman."

She'd called the police screaming blue murder. Harry didn't blame her for that: the sight of that much blood was frightful enough, not to mention the mauled body of the victim. But she had unknowingly threatened to put the whole investigation in jeopardy by involving Muggles. Harry, who had still been asleep in his bed after a late shift, had been summoned urgently and had spent a very tense fifteen minutes not knowing if his colleagues had managed to secure the crime scene before the Muggles showed up. Fortunately, they had.

"Potter!" Malfoy called out. "I said, did the Muggle know anything useful?"

It took Harry a few seconds to realise that Malfoy had been asking him a question. Merlin, but he was tired if he couldn't keep up with a simple conversation. The fact that he had to talk with _Malfoy_ of all people didn't help matters.

From the dismissive way in which he said 'Muggle', Harry guessed he expected the woman's testimony to be useless. Harry would have loved to be able to tell him that she had provided invaluable information, but that wasn't the case.

"She didn't see or hear anything," Harry replied. "The victim had been dead for hours. She thought it was a wild dog attack."

"A _dog_ ," Malfoy repeated, sounding even more dismissive than before. "Ridiculous."

"Do you have a better idea?" Harry snapped. "Because if so I would love to hear it!"

"To begin with," Malfoy drawled, "how did the Muggle's dog react?"

"The Muggle's…"

"…Dog, yes," Malfoy said in his most condescending tone. "You said that the witness was walking her dog. Was it the dog that sniffed out the victim? Did it bark?"

He was bound to find out eventually, if he stayed on the case, but why did he have to ask about it right away? "I don't know," Harry admitted through clenched teeth.

Malfoy blinked, then snorted out a derisive laughter. "You didn't even think to ask? Unbelievable. Yet more proof that the Ministry hires based on fame rather than talent."

Harry bit his tongue and didn't say anything. He was fuming, and the worst part was that Malfoy was right. They should have asked about the dog – but it hadn't been Harry asking the questions. Robards had been first on the scene, and he'd questioned the Muggle before Harry's arrival. If it had been any other Auror, they'd have waited for Harry since it was his case, but the Head Auror didn't always bother with niceties.

"When I've finished here," Malfoy said, "I expect I'll have a few more questions for your witness, before she is Obliviated."

"She's already been Obliviated," Harry said. By the time he got the summons from the office and showed up, the witness was already back in her living room and had no recollection of anything unusual happening during her morning walk.

Harry had lost his temper when he'd found out. Despite Robards' assurances that the woman didn't know anything useful, Obliviating her straight away had been a rash decision, especially since they didn't even know what they were looking for and every tiny detail could make or break the case. He had ended up arguing loudly with Robards about it, which was why he'd already been in a dark mood when Malfoy showed up. The day kept getting worse and worse and it wasn't even noon yet.

Malfoy was still muttering about incompetent Aurors. As much as Harry agreed that they'd bollocksed up, he wasn't going to side with Malfoy against his own department.

"It's procedure, Malfoy," Harry snarled. "She didn't know anything." He really hoped that was the truth. Malfoy didn't sound too convinced, but Harry was in no mood to deal with more of his questions. "Are you ever going to look at the body or is it too much for your delicate stomach?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it again. He pursed his lips. Without another word he walked towards the body and crouched next to it, fastidiously arranging his robes so as not to brush against any dirt or speck of blood. It took a few more seconds before he raised his eyes towards the worst of the wounds and Harry knew the exact moment when he did by the sharp hitch in his breath.

Harry circled around the victim and crouched down across from Malfoy so he could go through the pockets of the victim's jacket. He used a spell to do so, since her clothes were crusty with dried blood. Unfortunately, the spell revealed that the victim's pockets were empty. Harry let out a frustrated sound.

Malfoy's head snapped up. "Something the matter?"

Harry's first instinct was to deny that anything was wrong, but Malfoy _was_ on the case. "She doesn't have any identification on her," Harry said, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. It galled Harry to have to admit just how little progress they were making. "And I didn't find anything in the alley, which means I've got an unknown victim on my hands."

"Why would she carry identification?"

"Muggles do that. That's how I identified the second victim – he was Muggle-born, so he had a driving licence on him."

Malfoy frowned. "What's a driving licence?"

"Never mind." Under different circumstances Harry might have taken advantage of this chance to mock Malfoy for his ignorance, but he wouldn't let Malfoy's presence distract him from his job. "It's too bad that there isn't a spell to find out who she is."

"Maybe someone will report her missing," Malfoy said, sounding like he didn't care either way.

Harry grunted. They'd have to put a notice in the _Daily Prophet_ too. It couldn't be helped, as it was the only way to quickly get out the word about the unidentified woman, but it would mean bringing the case to the attention of the press.

So far the articles had been short and dry: someone had died after being attacked by a creature, the investigation was under way, the Ministry urged everyone to be cautious when venturing outside after dark. They'd been able to keep the most gruesome details from the public for fear that there would be a panic, but the more this case dragged on the more likely it was that something would be leaked to the _Daily Prophet_. Or maybe the journalists themselves would come to the conclusion that the attacks were linked.

After a few minutes, Malfoy got to his feet and wandered off. Bored already, Harry thought, or perhaps the sight of the victim's body was really too much for him. Harry stayed where he was, though his knees were starting to protest. The post-mortem would be done later by a couple of Aurors who specialised in that, but in Harry's experience there was plenty of information to be gathered directly at a crime scene. The previous two victims hadn't yielded much but he hoped this time it would be different. He felt like there ought to be something here that he'd missed.

"How did you know that she was a witch, anyway?" Malfoy asked. "She's wearing Muggle clothes."

Harry frowned. Why did Malfoy have to distract him with all those questions? At least this time Harry was one step ahead of him. "We found her wand before you arrived," he replied, trying not to sound too smug. "She was still clutching it in her hand. She must've drawn it when she was attacked."

Harry rose from his crouching position and, from an inner pocket of his robe, he produced a parcel wrapped in white linen. He unwrapped it to reveal a wand, the wood stained dark with blood. The tip of the wand had been snapped off and was hanging on by a few splinters.

Malfoy stepped closer to get a better look at the wand. "The last spell she cast could give us an indication of what happened…"

"Yeah, thanks Malfoy, why didn't I think of that myself," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Oh, wait, _I did_. Of course I already cast Prior Incantato but it didn't reveal anything useful. Her last spell was a cleaning spell, so there."

"No defence or attack spells," Malfoy mused. "That means the mystery creature took her by surprise and overpowered her without much of a struggle."

"She doesn't have any defensive wounds that I can see," Harry had to admit. "It looks as if there was no struggle at all."

Malfoy made a non-committal noise. He turned around and stared at the buildings on either side of the alley. "But where did the creature come from?"

"If I knew how to track it down," Harry snorted, "we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Very funny," Malfoy replied dryly. "What I meant is, how did it get into the alley in the first place? There are no footprints leading in or out," he said, jerking his head towards the mouth of the alley, "and that wall closes off the other end…"

They both turned to look at the wall. It was quite tall, reaching up to the first floor of the buildings on either side. Some of the bricks were crumbling or had fallen down, revealing glimpses of a dilapidated courtyard on the other side. Beyond that, Harry knew, was the Thames. He and the Aurors from the emergency response team had already searched the area without finding anything, not even a stray cat.

"It couldn't have come from over the wall," Harry said, but his voice came out sounding doubtful. "It'd have to be capable of flying." As he said that, Harry glanced at Malfoy with some alarm. He hadn't considered the idea that they were dealing with a flying creature, and it did seem pretty unlikely, but if it was…

Fortunately, Malfoy seemed to find the notion hilarious. "Don't be an idiot," Malfoy said with a snicker. "The only flying creature who could do this much damage to a person is a dragon. But it wasn't a dragon attack."

"How can you be so sure?" Harry asked.

Malfoy sniffed. "It's so obvious, I'm surprised you need to ask."

Before Harry could ask him to elaborate, Malfoy took a step forward. "Do you see that?!" he exclaimed, pointing upwards.

Harry whirled around, wand at the ready. "What?" he yelled, scanning the wall for signs of an assailant. "I don't see anything."

"Up there," Malfoy said. His eyes were fixed to a point at the top of the wall

Harry followed the line of his finger but couldn't make out anything aside from some rusty barbed wire. "I don't see anything," he repeated. He was getting more and more annoyed by the second. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

" _There_!" Malfoy snapped, stepping closer to Harry and jabbing his index finger towards the wall as if he had a personal grievance with it. "Merlin, are you blind or what?"

"You mean the barbed wire? That's a Muggle thing, not that you'd know about it…"

Malfoy huffed. "I'm not talking about the Muggles' urban décor," he said. "Even though, now that you mention it, this street does look really dismal. What I'm trying to tell you," he went on, stopping Harry before he could interrupt, "is that there's something caught on the wire."

"Something?" Harry repeated.

"Tufts of fur," Malfoy clarified. "Black fur, to be exact."

Now that Harry knew what he was looking for, he could see it, almost invisible against the dark brown and grey colours of the wall. He squinted, trying to get a better look. Even with glasses, his vision had never been perfect.

"That is just what I needed to prove my theory," Malfoy said, almost to himself. He drew his wand.

Harry, who was still staring at the barbed wire, caught sight of Malfoy just as he raised his arm to cast a spell.

"What are you doing?" Harry cried, grabbing Malfoy's wrist.

Malfoy jerked back as if he'd been burned. "Are you out of your mind?!" he shrieked. "Let go of me!"

"Not if you're going to ruin my evidence," Harry shot back.

" _Your evidence_? You didn't even know it was there," Malfoy pointed out. He sniffed and crossed his arms. "Anyway, I'm just going to use a summoning spell to get _your evidence_."

"You are going to do nothing of the sort," Harry replied. "This is what I was afraid of," he added with a derisive snort. "You have no idea what you're doing! If you use a summoning spell on that, the fibres are going to get snagged in the wire. You'll destroy any clues on there and I'll end up with no evidence."

"You wouldn't have any evidence in the first place if it wasn't for me spotting it!" Malfoy exclaimed. "Besides, do you really think I couldn't summon that bit of fur without ruining it?"

"I _know_ you couldn't," Harry shot back. "Just look at that, it's caught on the wire…"

Malfoy sneered. "While the great Harry Potter could? Need I remind you that my Charms marks were always higher than yours?"

"I'm not going to use a summoning spell," Harry said. He put away his wand, making sure it was safely tucked inside his robe's pocket, and rolled up his sleeves.

"What do you think you're doing?" Malfoy asked.

Harry ignored him. The missing bricks provided plenty of handholds and footholds so the height of the wall was not a problem. The only challenge was the barbed wire on top, but even that seemed broken in places. Harry stepped underneath one of those spots and grabbed a protruding brick, testing its stability.

Once he was satisfied that the wall wouldn't collapse under his weight, he started climbing.

"Potter, are you out of your mind?" Malfoy asked as Harry pulled himself upwards. "That is completely unnecessary, there are spells… If you fall down and break your head I'm going to leave you here… Listen to me, Potter!"

Harry's only answer was a grunt. He had no intention of falling, not when the climb was easier than most things he'd done during Auror training. In no time at all he reached the top, and with some careful manoeuvring he sat astride the wall, legs dangling on either side.

Beyond the wall was an abandoned courtyard and in the distance Harry could make out the glinting of light reflected on the river. There wasn't a single soul in sight, but even if there had been, Harry was not worried about being seen: the same spell that hid the alley from Muggles would ensure that nobody noticed him.

From below, Malfoy craned his head to look at Harry. "Potter!" he called again.

Harry turned his attention to the fur trapped on the barbed wire. The tufts were long and, from what he could see, looked quite glossy. It didn't look as if it had been there long – if it had, the rain that had fallen last week would have washed it away, or turned it into a dirty mess.

Keeping one hand braced against the edge of the wall for balance, Harry fumbled in his pockets for an evidence bag.

"Did you get it?" Malfoy asked.

"Give me a moment," Harry muttered, eyes fixed on the fur. His hands hovered over it.

Harry hesitated. This could be the decisive clue that would point towards the creature who was responsible for these attacks. He glanced towards where the victim lay in the middle of the alley; they could stop the creature before it claimed another victim. Malfoy was right when he said that Harry wouldn't be able to free the bits of fur from the barbed wire without ruining it, but there was another way to get the evidence to headquarters without damages.

Placing the tip of his wand against the barbed wire, Harry cast a severing charm. The wire broke with a metallic twang.

"What's happening?" Malfoy called. "What in Merlin's name are you doing up there?"

"I'm securing the evidence," Harry shot back. One more severing charm later, he was holding a two-feet long piece of barbed wire, with the fur still attached to it.

From up close he could see that the fur was black and very thick. He dropped the piece of barbed wire in the evidence bag and sealed it.

"There's better ways of doing that," Malfoy said. "Ways that don't involve climbing up walls like you're a monkey. Oi, Potter, are you even listening to me?"

"Unfortunately," Harry replied. He glanced down at Malfoy, who was craning his head and glaring at him. Maybe he could just stay here until Malfoy gave up and walked away. But Malfoy had seemed quite determined, and if the sight of a maimed body hadn't turned him off the case, Harry doubted that a minor annoyance would.

He was about to get down and rejoin Malfoy when something caught his eye. He bowed his head to examine it closer, carefully balancing himself on the narrow wall. "This wire has been cut," he muttered, more to himself than to Malfoy.

Malfoy, it seemed, had very good hearing. "Of course it was, you dolt," was his reply. "Or did you forget that you used a severing charm on it only a minute ago?"

Harry snorted. "I know I did! What I mean is that someone else cut the wire earlier." He looked around the narrow space where he was sitting. "I thought there was no barbed wire in this spot because it had rusted, but that's not it."

"How do you know?" Malfoy asked, lifting an eyebrow. "It's _old_ and it was made by _Muggles_. It's a miracle there's anything left of it at all."

"So you're still prejudiced against Muggles. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm not prejudiced," Malfoy sniffed. "I'm simply stating a fact. Everyone knows Muggle things are always breaking–"

"The _fact_ ," Harry said, raising his voice to talk over Malfoy's blather, "is that this wire didn't just rust away." He pointed to where one broken end of the barbed wire dangled over the edge of the wall, even though Malfoy probably couldn't see it well from where he was. "If it were rusted, the broken edges would be rusted too. Instead they're clean. Shiny. Like they were cut recently."

Malfoy fell silent and pursed his lips. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Harry could see that he was working out the implications of Harry's discovery. The creature might not be a dragon, but it was still capable of climbing walls without difficulty, not to mention cutting through thick metallic wire with its claws. Or talons. Or whatever it was that it had.

"If you know what kind of creature we're dealing with," Harry said, "now would be a good time to share."

"I've got a working theory," Malfoy drawled. "I'll let you know after I confirm it."

"Yeah, right," Harry said.

Malfoy drew himself up, which was quite a feat since he was still having to crane his neck to look at Harry. "Need I remind you that if it wasn't for me you wouldn't even have noticed the wire and the fur trapped in it?"

It was true, and that made Malfoy sound even more annoying. Harry tucked the evidence inside his robes, hoping the reinforced fabric provided enough padding to keep him from getting pricked by the barbs, and elected not to speak to Malfoy as he climbed down. It was just a fluke anyway. He couldn't wait to close the case and get rid of Malfoy.

\---

It took several hours to finish processing the scene. Trailed by Malfoy, Harry went over the alley twice, as well as the area around it, but didn't find much. Malfoy spotted some scratches in the asphalt in three different spots, but Harry doubted they'd been left by the creature, unless it had walked in a zig-zagging route.

Nevertheless, they took photographs of them, as well as photos of the victim from different angles and of everything that could hold a clue. Harry was going to develop them by himself later on, since Robards had been adamant not to involve any more people than strictly necessary, not even the Ministry's photographer.

There had been no way to avoid involving Necro, the division of the Auror's office that handled post-mortems. They were a rather secretive bunch, though, and the other Ministry employees tended to avoid them due to their macabre sense of humour, so Harry wasn't worried about them leaking details about the case.

Harry checked the warding spells often, remembering all the horror stories he'd heard from his instructors during training, about Muggles suddenly walking into the middle of an active crime scene, but the wards held fast. He and the other Aurors were able to move the body from the alley to the nondescript grey van used by Necro without a single Muggle even turning their way.

Malfoy was the first to leave, claiming that he wanted to get a head start on his research. It might have been just an excuse to get away from the sight and smell of the alley, but Harry didn't care. There was nothing else that Malfoy could do at the scene and Harry would work more easily without Malfoy breathing down his neck and making snarky comments.

After the Necro team left, promising to give the highest priority to the post-mortem of the unknown victim, Harry was left with the thankless job of removing every trace of the violent death that had just taken place. This mostly consisted of casting Scourgify all over the place and then dousing any lingering trace of blood with the strongest cleaning potion on the market.

It wasn't usually a task performed by Aurors themselves, but again Robards' preoccupation with secrecy trumped everything else. Harry didn't mind the manual labour since it gave him time to think, but it wasn't a particularly productive way of spending his time when he could be chasing down leads.

As he poked at a particularly stubborn piece of gory asphalt in the place where the victim had been killed, Harry found himself thinking about Malfoy. The git had proven to be not as useless as Harry would have thought, spotting a clue that might have been overlooked otherwise.

Malfoy wasn't stupid, Harry remembered, even though in school he'd liked to get ahead using his family name or favouritism from Snape. He might come up with some useful insight on the case, maybe even figure out which creature was behind the attacks. It was too bad that his personality was just as bad as Harry remembered.

The quicker Harry could solve the case, the quicker he could be rid of Malfoy's snarky comments – of the way he pursed his lips and looked down at his nose on everything. And those immaculate robes! No doubt Malfoy had a small army of house elves who did his laundry. Harry himself had to make do with the book of household spells that Mrs Weasley had given him as a present when he'd moved into his own apartment. His clothes always ended up looking slightly rumpled because he'd never got the hang of ironing spells.

It was early afternoon by the time Harry finished cleaning up. The day had turned out stifling hot and Harry, sweating under his robe, wished he could wear a t-shirt to work.

He did a last tour to check his work. The alley looked spotless – in fact it was so clean that it stood out in the graffiti-riddled neighbourhood. It would do, Harry thought. He didn't bother removing the wards around the place. They would fade with time and Muggles would be able to see and enter the alley again, without ever knowing what had taken place.

Instead of Apparating straight back to the Ministry, Harry made a detour and popped into a shop just off Diagon Alley for a sandwich and a cold bottle of Butterbeer. He would have liked to sit outside in the sun and eat a leisurely lunch, but he was going to eat at his desk until the case was solved. Afterwards… well, given the office's current case load, it was still going to be lunch at his desk.

Somehow, Harry couldn't picture Malfoy eating sandwiches at a desk, or even joining the queue in the Ministry's cafeteria. He was sure Malfoy was one of those who always ate at home. Probably had a two-hour-long lunch break and then complained about having to rush back to work.

He was still thinking about it as he got into the office, so much that he almost walked past Ron's cubicle without even saying hello.

"Hey, mate," Ron said, and Harry was so startled he almost dropped the paper bag with his lunch. "You're looking grim. Everything all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, dropping the bag on his desk next to a stack of memos that seemed to have piled up in his absence. Even as he stood there, another paper plane flew in and landed neatly over the rest. Harry sighed. "Hi, Ron. Yeah… sorry, it's one of those days…"

"I know what you mean," Ron said, sympathetic. He glanced at his own cluttered desk and grimaced. "How's your case going? I didn't see you around this morning, so I was hoping you'd made a breakthrough."

"No such luck." Harry sank into his chair. Even though they were in the office, he glanced around to make sure that there were no visitors around before continuing. "There was another victim. Same as the wounds as the other two. Only this time we found her in a Muggle part of the city."

Ron sucked in a breath. "Do you think Muggles could be in danger too?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "The attacks seem to be random. I have a few leads but nothing concrete yet."

"You'll catch that thing, Harry," Ron said. "If you need a hand, you just have to ask."

"Thanks for the offer," Harry said with a half smile. He was sorely tempted to take him up on it, but he knew Ron was already busy with his own caseload and he was trying to cut back on overtime now that he had Rose.

Harry unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. "Did you eat already?" he asked around a mouthful of ham.

"Yeah, _ages_ ago," Ron said with a huge sigh. "I could go for a cup of tea but I've got to finish this first." A memo landed on his desk and Ron snatched it as if it had personally offended him. "I can't believe those morons moved the trial date without telling me, it's like they think we've got nothing else to work on…"

"By the way," Harry said in between bites, "you won't believe who Robards assigned to–"

"Urgh, not again!" Ron exclaimed, crumpling the memo in his fist and throwing it towards the waste-paper basket. It bounced off the edge and rolled away, and the waste-paper basket started giving chase. "I've got to go talk to Jenkins about this," Ron said, pushing back his chair. "Sorry, Harry, we'll talk later."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said. "I'll get back to work too. Good luck with Jenkins," he added. Ron grimaced, and Harry refrained from adding that he'd have happily traded Jenkins for Malfoy.

After Ron had stormed out, Harry finished his sandwich while going through the correspondence piled over his desk. Many of them were useless – just memos about the inter-departmental Quidditch tournament or snarky reminders not to dump potions in the office's communal sink.

There were a few people who had contacted him in response to enquiries Harry had sent out about the case, but most of the answers he got were in the negative. Even his most promising lead, a mysterious attack that had happened in Paris ten years before, turned out to be fruitless. A spokeswitch from the French Aurors let him know that the culprit, who turned out to be a deranged dark wizard, had later been apprehended.

It wasn't all bad news, though. Necro had already sent him the results of preliminary analysis conducted on the evidence collected that morning and assured him that he would have the results of the post-mortem by the next morning.

Harry put that letter aside and, after some thought, penned a brief note for Malfoy telling him about the analysis. He didn't bother to dry the ink with a spell, so it smudged a little as Harry folded the paper in the shape of a plane, but Harry wasn't going to bother with formalities with Malfoy. With a tap of his wand the plane flew over the cubicles towards the lift, heading towards the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Usually, Harry would head to the library or consult one of his manuals to try and make sense of the more obscure alchemical symbols that Necro had used, but he figured that Malfoy might as well make himself useful. And, if Malfoy chose to ignore him, then Harry could go to Robards and tell him in all honesty that it was Malfoy who refused to work together.

Having taken care of the Malfoy problem, Harry finished the last of his Butterbeer and set to update the case report. Harry found the task as boring as writing essays for school, or maybe worse since he couldn't ask Hermione for help, but he had to admit that it was a necessary part of the job, especially for longer and more complex cases like his current one.

Some of Harry's older colleagues flat-out refused to bother with reports, complaining that Robards cared more about paperwork than actual results. Harry himself had been known to be less than diligent with them, always placing them at the bottom of his to-do list; but Robards had insisted on regular updates on the case, so Harry couldn't put it off like he wanted.

At least, since the scene was fresh in his mind, it didn't take long for Harry to jot down all the relevant information. He took some pains to make his handwriting legible, since it was going to Robards, and attached the note from Necro for reference since he knew his boss was a stickler for that kind of thing. After that was done, he used a charm to dry the ink and then to make a copy of the few inches of parchment detailing the day's events.

Harry was just returning from dropping it on Robards' desk when he heard an altercation coming from the direction of the lift.

"Just where do _you_ think you're going?" he heard Ron say, quite loudly.

A few curious heads turned in that direction, and Harry swore under his breath. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what that was about.

He turned the corner just in time to see Ron placing himself between Malfoy and the entrance to the Auror headquarters. Harry couldn't see Ron's face, but judging from his stance he was only waiting for an excuse to hex Malfoy into next week.

As for Malfoy, he didn't acknowledge Harry's arrival, even though his gaze did flicker towards Harry for a moment. Instead, he drummed his fingers idly against the cover of the tome he was carrying. "Spare me the theatrics, Weasley," he drawled. "I'm here for work, so I'd appreciate it if you could remove yourself and stop wasting my time."

Ron snorted. "As if! What work? Do you mean spying on us? Nobody's allowed inside headquarters without an Auror vouching for them, and I sure as hell am not… Harry!" Ron exclaimed, turning around at the sound of Harry's footsteps. "You won't believe this jerk's nerve…"

"Actually," Harry told Ron with a sigh, "I'm afraid he _is_ here for work."

"What do you mean?"

Malfoy ignored him. "Potter," he said with a curt nod. "I got your note."

"What?!" Ron's yelp drew even more curious stares from passers-by.

Harry cringed inwardly. It was the opposite of what he'd been looking for. Of course, he himself had the same reaction this morning, but even so he'd hoped his collaboration with Malfoy would create as little disruption as possible. That didn't seem to be the case. Harry cleared his throat.

"I didn't think you'd show up in person," he told Malfoy.

Ron gaped at Harry as if he'd lost his mind. Malfoy ignored him. "I thought it would be quicker than exchanging memos." He produced Harry's note from his robe's pockets, holding it between thumb and forefinger and wrinkling his nose at it as if it were a dead rat. "Especially since this was barely readable."

Harry didn't dignify him with an answer. "Just come in," he snapped. He turned to Ron, who seemed rooted in spot by the shock, and gave him a comforting pat on the arm. "I was going to say so earlier. You know I was pestering Robards to consult with Creatures for my case? _He's_ the liaison," he said, jerking his head towards Malfoy.

Ron made a strangled sound. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "Typical Robards, it's as if he likes devising new ways to torture us!"

Shaking his head, he turned around and walked towards his cubicle with Harry, all the while casting dark looks in Malfoy's direction. Malfoy strolled in with a bored expression on his face, not even glancing at all the maps and photos tacked to the walls of the various cubicles. For the first time, Harry wondered if that was all an act or if Malfoy really was that bored with his surroundings. If so, he had to live a pretty bleak life. Harry complained about his job a lot but only because he was passionate about it.

Harry led the way to his cubicle, conscious of his colleagues' eyes on him and Malfoy. The earlier conversation had been loud enough for everyone to hear and Harry guessed that Malfoy would be the subject of conversation in the office for quite some time.

It hadn't been many years ago since the Malfoy family had been prosecuted for their involvement in the second war. Many of the Aurors present, Harry included, had been witnesses at the post-war trials. Harry had been just a trainee at the time, but he'd been inside the offices often enough to remember Malfoy's photo and name pinned on the back wall along with those of the other Death Eaters. It felt surreal to have Malfoy himself standing here.

Harry sat down at his desk with a heavy thud. He would have liked to make the visit as brief as possible, but it was unnerving to have Malfoy staring down at him. "Grab a chair," he said.

Malfoy glanced around and wrinkled his nose at the sight of Harry's cluttered desk. Realising he'd forgotten to throw away the remains of his lunch, Harry balled up the paper napkins and the sandwich wrapping and tossed them into the waste-paper basket to make some space on the desk.

That did not appease Malfoy, whose face remained frozen in an expression of mild distaste. He made a show of wiping the corner of the desk with his handkerchief before carefully placing down the book, as if it could somehow be contaminated.

Harry felt his temper rising. It was Malfoy who had shown up uninvited and without warning, so he might as well stop looking so high and mighty. Malfoy waved his wand at a chair to make it scoot closer and sat down, hands crossed primly in his lap, looking idly at the photos pinned around Harry's cubicle.

It was Harry who broke the silence first. "Here are the first results on the fur and other samples from the scene," he said, tossing them down on the desk in front of Malfoy.

For the first time, Malfoy showed signs of interest. He rifled through the scraps of parchment until he found the ones with the alchemical notes sent by Necro, which he started reading. Harry watched him as he did so, expecting to be pestered with more snarky comments or questions. After a while, though, it occurred to him that Malfoy was really deep in thought over the report.

Harry hadn't expected Malfoy to be so familiar with the symbols used by Necro. He himself knew the basics because he needed them for his job, but it wasn't something that was generally taught in school. Even though Hogwarts sometimes offered Alchemy classes for seventh years, Harry doubted the Carrows had bothered with that during their tenure. Malfoy must have studied it on his own.

Harry wanted to go back to work already, but at the same time he felt like he couldn't just ignore Malfoy when the other man was sitting right next to him. "So," Harry said, clearing his throat, "have you figured out what's behind the attacks?"

Malfoy looked up, one finger pressed to the parchment to keep his spot. "I have," he said, sounding insufferably smug.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. If Malfoy had really figured it out, it was almost worth hearing him brag about it. He leaned forward in his seat. "And…?"

"Give me a minute," said Malfoy, who seemed to be enjoying himself. "I want to cross-check those results just to be sure."

Harry snorted with impatience. "Did you find it in that book?" he asked, reaching towards it. The volume seemed rather old and dusty, with a dark leather cover stained by age.

Malfoy put a protective hand on the book. "Careful, Potter! It's the only copy in the country."

"I know how to handle books without destroying them in one touch," Harry huffed. "What's it about?"

Wordlessly, Malfoy turned the volume around to show him the cover. The title was written with a multi-hued ink that kept shifting between colours, like a rainbow in oil. It was also undecipherable to Harry, being written in runes.

"Care to translate?" Harry asked.

"I forgot you didn't take Ancient Runes in school," Malfoy said, obviously remembering perfectly well that Harry hadn't. "Fortunately for you, _I_ did. This is a travelogue written two centuries ago by Amina Sankara, recording her travels in East Africa for the benefit of her European colleagues–"

"You think that's where the creature is from?" No wonder he hadn't been able to find anything: his search had been restricted to Great Britain and Europe.

"I do," Malfoy said. "If only you'd let me finish my sentence. The size and angle of the claw marks we saw in that alley, the substances in the fur – the creature that Sankara describes is almost a perfect match."

"Almost?" Harry repeated, unconvinced. "I'm not interested in guesswork."

Malfoy shrugged one elegant shoulder. "It's a second-hand report about attacks that occurred in the villages that she visited. Some of the details are hazy. Excuse me if nobody bothered to record the length of the creature's claws down to a fraction of an inch…"

"All right, all right," Harry snapped. "But you're reasonably certain about this?"

Malfoy glanced at the report again and nodded. "Yes," he said. "This just confirmed it for me. The substances in the fur, as well as the shape and size of the claws that inflicted those injuries… It all points to this one creature."

"Does the creature have a name," Harry snorted, "or are you going to leave me hanging?"

Malfoy sniffed. "It's called a Nundu."

He paused, as if to let that sink in, but Harry felt strangely indifferent. After two weeks chasing this mysterious creature, Harry had started to think there would be some kind of revelation when he'd finally find out what it was. He didn't know why he'd thought that.

"I have no idea what that is," Harry said, trying not to let his disappointment show. "Do you know anything about it, aside from the fact that it's from Africa and that it's dangerous?"

"Not much," Malfoy said. "There are no reports of it being sighted outside of Africa, and even there it is very rare. It's almost a creature of legend – a giant leopard as black as midnight, capable of moving without making a sound."

"Lovely," Harry said.

"Newt Scamander called it 'the most dangerous beast in the world'," Malfoy went on, "and said it's never been subdued by less than a hundred wizards working together."

"You're joking, right?"

There was an amused glint in Malfoy's eyes. "Look it up in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ if you don't believe me. Page seven hundred and eighty-one… That is, if you still have your copy. You did take Care of Magical Creatures, right?"

"You know I did," Harry snapped, at once guilty and shamed – _Fantastic Beasts_ had been one of the books he'd consulted, but since it was basically an encyclopedia organized with the assumption that one knew what creature they were looking for, the effort had felt futile. "Do you think this is a joke? This thing is loose somewhere in London, and you're saying we need a hundred wizards to subdue it?! I doubt there's a hundred Aurors in all of Britain!"

"Calm down," Malfoy muttered hastily as more heads popped over the cubicles' partitions hearing Harry's raised voice. Ron was openly glaring at Malfoy over a mug of tea, but Malfoy ignored him and went on. "Luckily for us, Scamander never saw a Nundu, so he wrote down rumours and local legends. The thing about a hundred wizards? Just an exaggeration."

Harry pulled a face. "So now you think you know more about magical beasts than Newt Scamander?"

Malfoy heaved a sigh. "Can you please, for once in your life, stop being so dramatic?"

"Only if you stop being such a pompous arse."

"I'm just telling you what I found," Malfoy said, leaning forward and almost rising from his chair. "I might not be an expert on non-native magical creatures, but I know how to do research, and without taking away anything from Scamander's work, I find that in this case Sankara gives a more likely description. You're free to believe what you want. For my part, I've done my job."

Harry thought about giving him a sharp retort, then shut up. The git was right: five minutes ago, Harry didn't even know what a Nundu was. Malfoy had somehow come through with the name of the creature, so now it was up to Harry to find it. He took a deep breath.

"All right. So. What else did Sankara write about Nundus? What are their habits? Do they have any weaknesses?"

Malfoy, who looked like he'd been bracing himself for another verbal attack, was momentarily stunned into silence. "Well," he said, slowly. "Once you take out the flowery descriptions of the creature, there isn't much." He opened the book and translated some lines from it. " _The Nundu is a nocturnal creature. It hunts under cover of darkness._ Here it goes on to say that its coat itself made of darkness, which is utter nonsense…"

"I already suspected that the creature had some kind of lair where it hid during the day," Harry mused.

"That seems likely," Malfoy said. "It says here that nobody has ever seen a Nundu in daylight, but maybe that just means they never found any lairs."

"Can _you_ find the Nundu?"

Malfoy hesitated just a moment before answering. "Of course."

"Great." Harry took a map of London that was lying on his desk and tossed it to Malfoy. "Point out the location of its lair, will you?"

Malfoy's fingers curled around the thick parchment of the map. For a moment he looked lost, then he started unfolding it carefully, smoothing out the creases. "Its natural habitat is East Africa. It's possible that it chose a lair that, for lack of a better word, reminded it of home."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I don't know yet!" Malfoy said, slapping the map with his open palm.

Harry leaned forward in his seat. "That doesn't give me anything to work with," he snarled.

"Harry, is everything all right?" Ron called. He sounded as if he was hoping for an answer in the negative, just so he could have an excuse to toss Malfoy out.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah," he answered. "Everything is peachy." His temper was already frayed because of pressure from the case and lack of sleep, and being around Malfoy made everything worse. He scrambled for the one bit of good news he had. "I know which creature is behind the attacks."

"Great job, mate!" Ron said, sounding surprised but pleased. "Maybe that'll cheer Robards up. He just went by, looking like thunder," he added, nodding towards the door to Robards' office.

Robards had been looking gloomier than usual lately. The stress of a high-profile case, combined with the need to keep the details out of the press, were starting to take a toll on him.

Harry turned to Malfoy. "Can you put together all the information related to Nundus?" he asked, as politely as he could.

"Of course," Malfoy drawled. "I'll translated the relevant passages from this book, and also copy the bit from _Fantastic Beasts_."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"You're welcome."

For that, Harry thought, he deserved the Order of Merlin. He'd managed to be civil to Malfoy, polite even. Robards had better be pleased with his efforts.

Just then, Harry noticed the top of Robards' balding head moving across the room. "'Scuse me," he muttered, jumping up all of a sudden and hurrying after his boss.

He caught up with Robards just as he was getting into the lift. "Sir, could I have a moment? It's about the investigation."

"Potter." Robards was wearing his ceremonial robes and a glum expression. Likely his meeting with Shacklebolt hadn't gone well. "What is it? I read your memos already. Good job. Carry on."

"It's a Nundu," Harry blurted out. "From Africa. That's the creature behind the attacks."

He could tell that Robards was surprised. It was harder to guess whether he was pleased, because his voice still sounded just as mournful. "Good, good," he nodded. "Did you and Mr Malfoy work that out in just one morning?"

"Malfoy did the work," Harry admitted. "While I was processing the scene," he hastened to add, in case Robards thought he'd let Malfoy do everything while he just idled by.

Robards nodded again. "You were right in bringing someone in as a consultant. I don't trust the people from Magical Creatures as far as I can throw them – their department would have made a mull of the investigation if they were in charge. But, since this is different from our usual cases, we might have to rely on Mr Malfoy's expertise."

"At least he doesn't have to stay long," Harry said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying," Harry said, "now that we know it's a Nundu, he can go back to his department…"

Robards made an impatient noise. "Does that mean you're close to catching the beast? Do you know how to track it down?"

"No," Harry admitted. "But now that I know what I'm looking for, I can do some research and…"

"Mr Malfoy, who is from the Beast Division, can do that research," Robards said in a pointed tone.

Harry's stomach sank. He couldn't believe Robards would do that to him, but apparently that was exactly what Robards was doing. "But… doesn't he have other work to…"

"I'll take care of that," Robards said, in a tone that meant the discussion was over. He got into the lift. "Oh and, Potter, find him an empty cubicle," Robards said as he pressed the button. "It will be more convenient if he has his own space while he's staying with us. The one across from you is empty, I recall."

Harry could only stare in stunned silence as the lift doors closed.

\---

Saturday lunch with Ron and Hermione was a tradition dating back to the time when the three of them had first moved to London. They had let it lapse after Rose's birth but were starting to pick it up again, thanks to Hermione's insistence that they would all go out of their minds if they spent all of their time either at home or at the office.

"Are you sure it'll be fine?" Ron asked again, pushing his potatoes around his plate.

The three of them were sitting at a small restaurant just off Diagon Alley, taking advantage of a rare sunny day that let them sit outside.

"Of course," Hermione replied with forced nonchalance. "Why wouldn't it?"

"I'm just saying. What if she didn't eat? Maybe we should…"

"Ron, your mother raised seven children," Hermione pointed out. "She's more than capable of taking care of Rose for a few hours, so will you just stop fidgeting and eat your food!"

"All right, all right," Ron muttered, shoving a forkful into his mouth. "I waf juft faying."

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione, startling him out of a daydream "We've been boring you with all this talk about Rose."

"I wasn't bored," Harry said, perhaps too quickly. Hermione shot him a knowing look. "No, really! I was just thinking about, you know…"

Ron stabbed his pork chops with unnecessary violence. " _Him_."

"I still can't believe Robards gave Malfoy a bloody cubicle!" Harry exclaimed. Ron, who'd already heard Harry's complaints many times, nodded in agreement. "I don't know how much longer I'll manage to put up with this. How am I supposed to work with him around all the time?"

"Is he bothering you?" Hermione asked. "I can't imagine Robards would let him get away with that, not with the case still open. Minister Shacklebolt is very keen on finding the Nundu as soon as possible."

"I know," Harry groaned. "I'm working on it. And Malfoy's not bothering me… at least, not in a way that could get him thrown out of the office."

"He just sits there all the time without saying anything," Ron put in. "It's unnerving."

Hermione was startled into laughter. "It's not a crime to be quiet."

Harry wished he could explain. "It _is_ unnerving. I keep turning around and finding him watching me. And also," he added with a passion, "he's _not_ quiet! He's always making snide remarks. He insisted on reading the entire documentation on the case, and then spent a whole afternoon asking which word is this and complaining about my handwriting."

"Don't forget about the smell," Ron reminded him.

Harry groaned.

"What smell?" Hermione asked with a frown. "I don't particularly remember Malfoy smelling."

"Not _his_ smell," Harry said. "Though he does wear too much cologne."

"I never noticed that," Ron said, "but your cubicle is closer to his, worse luck for you."

"It's this cleaning potion. Smells worse than bleach – that's like a Muggle cleaning potion," Harry explained for Ron's benefit. "Anyway, Malfoy got Tuttridge's old desk, and it was a bit of a mess. Piled with junk and covered with dust."

"I think there was still a ham sandwich in the drawers," Ron added.

"Ew!" Hermione made a face. "And nobody thought to throw that away?"

"You can't just throw away a dead Auror's things," Ron said, looking horrified. "You've got to allow people some time to mourn."

"It was a _ham sandwich_ ," Hermione pointed out, "and Tuttridge has been dead since before you joined the Auror Department."

"Still…"

"The point is," Harry said, "I came in one morning and Malfoy had completely emptied his cubicle and poured cleaning potions all over the desk. The whole office smelled awful for the entire day."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry, I'd like to join you in verbally abusing Malfoy, but I'm still reeling from the fact that you two are more upset by the act of cleaning than by a putrefying ham sandwich."

Ron shrugged and cheerfully speared the last of his potatoes. "You get used to it."

"I sincerely hope I'll never have to get used to anything of the sort," Hermione said.

"Pudding?" Harry suggested, and the conversation was dropped.

The restaurant made a delicious chocolate fudge cake, but they decided to take advantage of the sunny weather and get ice cream from Florean Fortescue's parlour. It was run by one of Florean's cousins now, and the ice cream was just as delicious as always, but the place always made Harry feel sad.

By mutual agreement, the three of them decided not to sit under the striped umbrellas outside, even though there were still a few empty tables. Instead, they headed towards a small park a few blocks away and ate their ice cream in the shade of a large willow tree.

"How is your case going, Harry?" Hermione asked. She tossed a bit of her cone into the pond where the ducks started squabbling over it.

"It's fine."

Hermione snorted. "Please. That's the same answer I get at work when someone doesn't want to admit that they don't have anything new."

"You're scary," Ron said. "In a good way. But scary."

"I only meant…"

"No, you're right," Harry admitted. "There's been some progress, but still nothing concrete for tracking down the Nundu." The last sentence was spoken in an undertone, even though there was nobody close by.

Hermione also lowered her voice to match Harry's. "I did look into it and it's true – Nundus are incredibly rare. There are barely any books mentioning them in the Ministry's library, and one of them is a single copy _and_ has been checked out already."

"That'd be the book Malfoy has got," Harry said. "Amina Sankara's _Travels In East Africa_."

"If he's done with it, he should return it already," Ron said. "His desk is starting to disappear under a pile of books, and he keeps bringing in more. I knocked down a couple of books by mistake the other day and he looked at me as if I'd kicked a Crup."

Hermione looked horrified. "You knocked them down? If they're like anything like _Travels In East Africa_ … That book is two hundred years old and extremely rare!"

"I think Malfoy's looking into the savannah in general now," Harry said. "He's got this theory that the Nundu has a lair in London, so he's trying to figure out where it is by studying the habits of similar animals.

"That's… smart," Hermione said, sounding impressed in spite of herself.

"Too bad that so far he's made zero progress towards finding it," Ron said, with some relish. Then he caught Harry's expression.

"But I'm sure you'll figure it out, Harry!" Hermione hastened to add.

"No, Ron's right," Harry said. "So far, Malfoy has been able to find out precious little about Nundus."

"I wish I could help," Hermione sighed.

Harry nodded. "I know. I also wish you were our liaison instead of Malfoy." He sat down in a sunny spot and started picking at strands of grass.

"Of course," Ron said, pulling a face. "Malfoy only got a job at the Ministry because of his family's connections."

"Dunno," Harry said. "After the War Trials, the Malfoys' reputation crumbled. With Lucius Malfoy and most of his cronies in Azkaban, I wonder who it was that got Malfoy the job with Magical Creatures."

Hermione, who was pulling a rather large blanket from her relatively small handbag, hesitated. "Er. Well, about that…"

"What is it?" Ron prompted.

"I might have looked into Malfoy's file in the Archives," Hermione said. She spread the blanket on the ground and sat down.

"I didn't know you had access to employee files," Harry said. They were full of confidential information about someone's work at the Ministry, including private and medical record.

"Not without an authorization from my supervisor," Hermione replied cheerfully. "But he never reads any of the documents I put on his desk, so it was easy enough to get his signature on the request form for Malfoy's files."

Ron grinned. "Brilliant! So who got Malfoy his job?"

"That's just it," Hermione said with a shrug. "From what I found, nobody did. Pretty much everyone was against the idea of having a Malfoy working for the Ministry."

"Can't say I disagree," Harry said.

Me neither," Hermione replied, and Ron grunted his assent. "Anyway, Malfoy applied multiple times before being accepted. First he applied to the Department of Mysteries but he was turned down with no reason given."

"The reason is that Malfoy's a git," Harry put in.

"Afterwards he tried to get into Magical Law Enforcement," Hermione continued. "They have a standardised test, you know, so I assume Malfoy thought he could just pass that."

Harry and Ron knew all about the test, since Hermione had talked of nothing else for a month when she was studying for it. "So Malfoy failed?" Harry asked. It felt good to think that Malfoy, with his smartarse comments and better-than-you attitude, had not managed to pass.

"He never even took the test," Hermione said, and Harry's happiness deflated a little. "His application was rejected on a technicality. From the comments on his file, all the higher-ups were scrambling for an excuse to reject him. It's quite telling that they had a file on Malfoy since before they hired him – they must have been keeping tabs on him."

"When was he hired, then?" Harry asked. He didn't know what to think about Hermione's story. It did seem unfair that someone at the Ministry had tried to manipulate the system to keep Malfoy out, but then again, given Malfoy's family history and his past…

"He applied again to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The head of that department wasn't too happy about it, but there was some concern that if they kept rejecting Malfoy he'd go to the press or lodge a complaint with the International Confederation of Wizards. So they let him take the test."

"Which he failed," Harry said.

"Actually, he didn't," Hermione said. "He scored a hundred and eight and a half points, out of a hundred and ten. So they hired him."

Ron made a sound of disgust.

"Hold on, you said the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Harry said. "How come he's with the Beast Division now?"

"To cut a long story short, it's because nobody wanted him in their department. He got shuffled around a couple of times before landing in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures a few months ago. I assume that's why he got assigned as a liaison to the Aurors office."

Harry stretched himself out on the grass and stared up at the sky that was already getting cloudy. "Can't say I blame them for wanting to get rid of Malfoy," he said. "I'd do the same if I was in their place."

"Really?" Hermione asked. She sounded strange, so Harry propped himself on his elbow and shot her a questioning glance, but she was staring at the trees in the distance. "You might get your wish. I think Madam Trentwith, the head of the Beast Division, sent Malfoy to you as a liaison because she's hoping he'll prove a failure."

"What?"

"This is just speculation on my part," Hermione said, biting her lip. "But I read a copy of the memos and Robards mentioned you by name when he requested someone to assist for what he called an 'important and delicate matter'. I think Trentwith is hoping that Malfoy will prove a failure, or maybe that the two of you will come to blows."

"Isn't that sabotage?!" Ron exclaimed. "Why would the Department of Magical Creatures do that to Harry?"

"Not Harry," Hermione huffed. "It's Malfoy they're after. Trentwith has been collecting complaints about Malfoy. It's small stuff so far – just office squabbles – but if Harry were to blame Malfoy for interfering with his case…"

"He'd be sacked," Harry finished for her. He wasn't so modest as to play down his own influence inside the Ministry. Much as he disliked Malfoy, Harry hated to think that he was being used as a pawn in another department's internal politics.

"So what are you saying?" Ron asked. "Harry should give that git a good report, is that what you mean? I think we should take advantage of the situation and make sure that Malfoy gets the sack. You know he'd be chomping at the bit if he got the chance to do it to Harry!"

"I don't approve of the methods they're using, but I'm just telling you the facts," Hermione replied. "It sounds like Malfoy has a lot hinging on the success of this case."

Harry nodded but didn't say anything. He suddenly felt angry towards this Trentwith person who was using him to pursue her own agenda with no regard for his investigation, and also angry with Malfoy for placing him in this position.

Ron was right that Malfoy wouldn't have hesitated if he had a chance to get Harry sacked, but that didn't mean Harry had to lower himself to Malfoy's level. Not unless Malfoy gave him a reason to lodge a serious complaint. And, knowing that this was just what people from the Beast Division were counting on, Harry wasn't sure whether to hope that Malfoy did.

\---

Despite it being early afternoon, the office was almost empty when Harry walked in. Ron and half a dozen others were taking a day off after a nightly raid to apprehend a fugitive Death Eater, while senior Aurors were busy interrogating the prisoner in one of the lower levels.

Robards was also missing, likely reporting to Minister Shacklebolt about the arrest, or so Harry hoped. If his boss was busy with some other case, it would give Harry a welcome respite from his constant badgering. It was hard enough to know he wasn't making any progress on the Nundu investigation without Robards breathing down his neck.

Malfoy, worse luck, was sitting at his desk as always. He didn't appear to have moved in the three hours Harry had been out: the only difference was that instead of reading a rather large volume he was currently consulting a map, making measurements and writing notes on a scrap of parchment.

At Harry's approach, Malfoy glanced up from his work, then turned around in his chair. "Back so soon?" he drawled.

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint you." Harry tossed aside his cloak and sat down at his desk, dragging one hand through his hair to dislodge a few droplets of water. The windows of the office might display a fine weather today, but outside it was pouring.

Malfoy stared. "From your dulcet tones, I assume your latest lead has proven to be as useless as the rest. Another wasted journey?"

Harry grunted. "I wouldn't say it was completely wasted," he replied. "I found a breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding – a witch was breeding giant Kneazles that were this _this_ tall," he said, gesturing to about the height of his desk.

Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "Impressive. But useless for the purpose of tracking down the Nundu."

"I know," Harry snapped. He rummaged through the mess covering his desk until he found a quill and a piece of clean parchment. "If you have any idea how to do that, you're welcome to share. If not, please shut up and let me get on with my work." To emphasise that, he dipped his quill in the inkwell. A few drops of ink shot out, staining his fingers.

"Have you made any progress identifying the victim?" Malfoy asked.

Harry paused in the middle of writing the date on his report. He glanced at Malfoy, who appeared to be studying his nails. Was it just idle curiosity or genuine interest in the case?

"Still nothing," Harry said. "The post-mortem didn't tell us much and she doesn't match any of the missing person reports. I thought I might identify her through her wand – if it was bought here in London, Ollivander might remember it…"

Malfoy pursed his lips. "Even if it was bought half a century ago?"

"You'd be surprised," Harry replied dryly. "Ollivander has an excellent memory."

"If you're so sure," Malfoy said, sounding sceptical. "I suppose it might be worth a try. Why haven't you contacted him already?"

Harry let out a frustrated noise and slumped forward on his desk. "I _tried_ , but he's in South America visiting family and hasn't left an address."

"Oh," Malfoy said. "I see. I thought the shop was still open–"

"It is still open." Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It was somewhat easier to talk to Malfoy if he didn't have to look at his pointy face. "Ollivander's great-niece is running the shop while he's away, but she doesn't know if he even kept a record of the wands he sold. I might write her again and ask if she heard from Ollivander," he added, mostly to himself.

Malfoy made a dismissive noise.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he glared at Malfoy. "What is it? Do you think this'll be a waste of time too?"

"On the contrary," Malfoy drawled, "I think it's one of the few good ideas you've had in this investigation. Which is why I'm surprised you didn't bother to mention it in any of the reports."

"No point mentioning it if it leads nowhere," Harry said, pulling a face. "If I had to write full reports on all false leads, I wouldn't have time to do anything else. Just look at that." He gestured towards a pile of letters stacked precariously on a corner of his desk.

Malfoy leaned sideways and, before Harry could stop him, snatched the topmost one. "What's this?" he asked, turning the letter around to check the sender's name. "Your fan mail?"

Harry snorted. "Worse. I, or rather the department, put a notice in the _Daily Prophet_ to try and identify the nameless victim. Those are the replies that we received."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Malfoy asked, lifting an eyebrow. "One of those might contain the name of the victim."

"Yeah, and I might find the Nundu tonight as I get take out from the restaurant around the corner," Harry scoffed. He was still going to read all of the letters, on the off chance that one offered some small tidbit of information, but from past experience the people who answered insertions on the _Daily Prophet_ never had anything useful to contribute at all.

"Your sarcasm is duly noted," Malfoy said. He hesitated, twirling the letter in his fingers. Harry held out his hand but Malfoy made no move to give him the letter. "Potter," he said with some reluctance, "would you like me to go through those letters?"

Harry's first instinct was to reply with a resounding yes, and perhaps run away before Malfoy changed his mind. It wasn't difficult to guess that Malfoy was offering his help to get on Harry's good side. "Even if you find out who the victim is," Harry said instead, slowly, "it might not help you find the Nundu."

"I know," Malfoy replied with a sniff. "I'm waiting for the delivery of more books and I don't have anything better to do in the meantime, so I figured I'd offer. If you don't want me to–"

By way of answer, Harry shoved the pile of letters towards him. "Knock yourself out."

A couple of letters fluttered to the floor and Malfoy picked them up with a wave of his wand. He rolled aside the map on his desk to make room and started going through the pile without giving Harry a second glance.

Harry watched him for a while longer as he opened one of the envelopes and bent his head over the sheet of parchment, then shook himself out of his reverie and got to work. He had to alert the Improper Use of Magic Office about the giant Kneazles, as well as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and there was also his daily report for Robards to take care of. Malfoy's offer of help might be self-serving, but as long as he lessened his workload Harry wasn't going to complain.

It was a cold afternoon. The previous week's good weather had given way to early autumn storms and the whole Ministry felt chilly and damp. Harry hoped magical maintenance turned on the heating soon, though knowing them they wouldn't until Halloween. Harry would have thrown his cloak over his shoulders for warmth, but it was still damp, and he didn't dare risk a drying charm since he wasn't very good with household magic. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself in front of Malfoy.

He tried to concentrate on his work instead, though he sometimes had to stop and rub some life into his fingers when they grew numb from gripping the quill. Malfoy himself didn't seem to mind the cold: he sat with his back ramrod straight, sorting the letters into neat little piles and muttering under his breath when (Harry guessed) he came across some of the more stupid letters.

At least, with the office almost empty, there were no distractions and Harry was able to finish the paperwork in record time. He also arranged a meeting with an informant who trafficked Class A Non-Tradeable Goods. There were rumours floating around of a ring of smugglers who operated out of Africa and Harry wanted to find out if there was any link to their Nundu.

After what felt like ages, Harry scribbled an unreadable signature at the bottom of a letter and dropped it in his Out tray. That was the last of his correspondence taken care of, he thought, stretching his arms with an audible creak.

Malfoy turned around to glance at him. "I'm almost done," he drawled. "You won't believe the absolute nonsense that some people write!"

"Oh, but I do," Harry said with a smirk. "That's why I'm so glad you volunteered for the task." Malfoy made a disgusted noise. "So how did it go?"

Malfoy gestured to the neat piles he'd made on his desk. "These were sent from people who don't know anything," he said, pointing to a rather large stack. "And these," he added, pointing to an even larger stack, "are from people who don't know anything and also seem deranged. You might want to refer them to St Mungo's."

Harry snorted to himself. "I'm not sure it would be appropriate to do that. They're only members of the public trying to help us with our investigation," he added in a mock-prim voice.

Malfoy muttered something very rude about members of the public.

"Was there anything interesting?" Harry asked. "At all?"

"There are two that might be relevant," Malfoy said, handing them over. "Here, you'll want to read those, though it's probably another false lead."

Harry leaned over to take the letters and as he did so his fingers brushed against Malfoy's. He shuddered involuntarily and almost dropped the letters: Malfoy's fingers were as cold as ice. Malfoy snatched back his hand and looked away.

A cup of tea, Harry thought, would be just the thing. It was still bright outside the windows but, from the large grandfather clock looming over one side of the office, he knew it was getting late. Harry tossed the two letters on his desk and got up, stretching himself as he did so.

If Ron were around, they could take a break together; Harry would have welcomed the distraction before going back to work reading the letters Malfoy had selected. It was too bad the office was so empty, really. Kestrel was the only one around but she always made Harry feel uneasy. She had been one of his instructors during training, teaching Basics of Combat and Wandless Magic, and Harry still found it strange to talk to her as a colleague.

Malfoy was already back to work, taking notes on his map of London with coloured ink. Harry glanced towards the tea cupboard, then back at Malfoy.

"Tea?" Harry said before he could stop himself.

"What?" Malfoy asked, looking at him from over his shoulder.

Harry cleared his throat. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

He didn't know what had prompted him to make the offer, except that he was still pissed at Trentwith from the Beast Division for trying to use him to get Malfoy sacked. If she thought that Harry was going to lodge a complaint against Malfoy just because he hated him, then she was mistaken. Harry was perfectly capable of acting civil with his colleagues, even when he did dislike them a lot.

For a long moment, Harry thought Malfoy would refuse. He was probably thinking Harry had taken leave of his senses. It would be a relief if Malfoy refused the offer, especially if he was rude about it – then Harry could stop feeling sorry for Malfoy's rotten situation and go back to disliking him without reserve.

Malfoy, though, gave him a nod. "Yes," he said, carefully. "I would like a cup of tea."

Harry blinked. "All right."

Malfoy got up from his chair. It felt somehow surreal to walk with Malfoy towards the tea cupboard. Maybe, Harry thought, he was dreaming the whole thing. That would be nice, since lately he hadn't been getting much sleep at all. But the cold chill in the room felt all too real.

To fill the awkward silence between them, Harry busied himself with making tea. There was a large three-legged table near the cupboard with four teapots. Harry tapped his wand on the side of the largest one until a strand of smoke started coming out of the spout.

"It's supposed to be always full of hot water," he muttered without looking at Malfoy, "but the spell wore off ages ago."

"I see," Malfoy said.

Though Harry's back was turned, he could picture Malfoy rolling his eyes with disdain as he said so. Harry grunted and retrieved two mugs and the teabags from the cupboard. He didn't miss Malfoy's expression of disgust at the sight: all the mugs in the office were mismatched and tacky, and Harry had taken care to select two particularly garish ones.

Harry dropped the teabags in the mugs and topped them with hot water. "Which one do you want, _Best Mum_ or the pink dog with the squinty eye?"

Malfoy considered the two mugs, his mouth pursed into a thin line of disapproval. "I'll take _Best Mum_ ," he said with as much dignity as he could considering that the mug in question was purple and sparkly.

Harry pushed the mug towards him and took the squinty dog for himself. "You don't like dogs?" he asked, spooning sugar into his tea.

"Not particularly," Malfoy said, wrapping his hands around the mug. "I'm not sure that monstrosity qualifies as a dog, though."

Harry took a large gulp of tea and felt the warmth spreading through his chest. He immediately felt much better.

Malfoy put at least four spoonfuls of sugar into his tea and sniffed it carefully before taking a sip. "Tastes like lukewarm dishwater," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Do you often drink dishwater?" Harry inquired.

"No, but apparently you do."

"What did you expect, high tea with cream and jam?" Harry scoffed. "It's the Ministry of Magic, not a garden party."

"The difference is abundantly clear." Malfoy took another sip. "Thanks," he said, addressing his tea.

"You're welcome," Harry replied, curt. He couldn't figure out if Malfoy was being sarcastic or not.

\---

It rained during the burial. They hadn't been able to find the woman's identity, so no friends and family were present. It was just Harry, an officiant from the Ministry, and a couple of undertakers whose job it was to lower the coffin into the ground. They did so quickly, no doubt wanting to get out of the rain as soon as possible.

After they left, Harry stood in front of the grave for a while, mindless of the rain that fell in rivulets around him and pooled into the creases of his cloak. It bothered him to see the headstone, which was blank save for the date of the woman's death. He had done his best to find out her identity and capture the Nundu but, given how slowly the case was progressing, Harry was starting to feel that his best was not good enough.

Lightning lit up the sky, and from the corner of his eye Harry noticed there was someone else in the graveyard. It was Malfoy, standing under a copse of trees some distance away, half-hidden under a large black umbrella. After a moment's hesitation, Harry turned around and strode towards him. Mud squelched under his boots.

"Potter," Malfoy said when Harry had come close enough that they could speak above the noise of the rain. "Have you ever heard of umbrellas? They're very useful to avoid looking like a drowned rat."

Harry ignored the barb. "What are you doing here? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"It was a public ceremony, wasn't it?" Malfoy sounded nonchalant but his fingers were gripped tight around the handle of his umbrella. "I don't need anyone's permission to be here. What about you?"

Harry wasn't in the mood for banter, not when a woman had just been laid to rest. "Someone had to be here," he said, "since I couldn't find her family."

For once, Malfoy didn't have any snappy reply. He made as if to open his mouth, then changed his mind and looked away at the fresh grave in the distance. The light was fading quickly, so the outline of the headstone was barely visible.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Are you going back to the Ministry, or are you leaving early today?"

"Neither," Harry replied. "I've a meeting with an informant."

"Another one of your wild goose chases?"

Harry clenched his fists, fighting to keep his temper. "She might be able to tell me how the Nundu came into the country."

It was a stretch to hope that the woman would know so much, since she hadn't mentioned anything about Nundus in particular, but Harry was hopeful. The note she'd sent sounded very promising, alluding to some big thing that Harry would want to hear about. Merlin, but it would feel good to have some results for a change.

Malfoy's eyes widened with surprise. "I want to come too."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "No way. No." 

"Why?"

"Because," Harry replied, struggling to come up with something that didn't amount to 'because I don't like you'. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

Malfoy sniffed. "It's past office hours, so it's not as if I'm skipping work. I was about to head home. It's my business how I choose to spend my free time."

The noise of the rain was suddenly very loud in the silence. Harry scrambled for something to say. "Why do you even want to go?"

"Because," Malfoy drawled, "I might notice something that you don't. I'm sure you would ask all the wrong questions."

"So you're suddenly an expert at questioning witnesses?"

"No, but in case you forgot, I _am_ the expert on magical creatures."

That was a good point, however Harry still shook his head. "My answer is still no," he snapped, glaring at Malfoy. "You're not an Auror, you can't be on the field."

"What do you mean, _on the field_?" Malfoy repeated. "You're just going to talk to someone – how dangerous do you expect that person to be?"

Harry shrugged. "She's not dangerous at all, but Auror regulations–"

"Right, I forgot!" Malfoy snarled. "The righteous Harry Potter, always following rules and regulations. Or at least you do when they suit you."

The accusation was galling, but the worst of it was that Malfoy was right. He wouldn't have cared so much if it had been anyone else but Malfoy. Wasn't he doing what Trentwith thought he would? Keeping Malfoy out of the case because of a personal dislike?

"All right then, you can come," Harry relented, to Malfoy's surprise. "But you follow my lead, understood?"

"Understood," Malfoy replied quickly, and then it was too late for Harry to change his mind.

Lightning flashed in the distance. Harry looked around. Between the rain and the darkness, it was impossible to see very far, but the graveyard seemed empty apart from the two of them. That was convenient.

It would have been better if Malfoy wore inconspicuous clothes. Harry himself had left his Auror robes at the office and was wearing jeans and a sweater under his cloak. Malfoy's robes, with the Ministry's badge embroidered on his breast, stood out too much for Harry's liking. He supposed it would be fine as long as Malfoy didn't remove his cloak.

"We'll have to Apparate to the meeting spot," Harry explained. "It's miles away, at the other end of London. Would you prefer the address or Side-Along Apparition?"

"The address, if you please," Malfoy said in a haughty tone.

Harry watched Malfoy's face fall once he gave him the address.

"I don't know where that is," Malfoy admitted.

Harry had expected it. It was a rather disreputable part of town and the locals didn't take well to strangers. He could explain where it was, but didn't want to risk Malfoy causing a commotion by Apparating into the wrong street.

Without a word, Harry extended his elbow. Malfoy closed his umbrella and shivered as raindrops dripped down from the trees above. Rather gingerly, Malfoy took hold of a bit of Harry's cloak. It wasn't Malfoy's fault that he didn't know the area, really, but his attitude was quickly making Harry regret his offer.

"Do you mind doing this properly?" Harry snapped. "The last thing I want is to waste time explaining to Robards how you got splinched."

He could barely see Malfoy's face in the darkness, but his annoyed huff was clear enough.

"Do you often splinch yourself while Apparating?" Malfoy asked. It sounded like sarcasm rather than genuine concern, so Harry ignored the question.

Without looking at him, Malfoy took hold of Harry's arm. His grip felt warm despite the damp clothes. Harry hadn't realised how cold he was – suddenly he couldn't wait to get out of the rain.

Grabbing Malfoy's sleeve with his free hand for safety, Harry Disapparated.

They arrived at a deserted courtyard miles away. The grip on Harry's arm tightened as Malfoy looked around, startled by the sudden complete darkness. Then, with a muffled exclamation, as if he'd only just realised what he was doing, he let go of him.

"This way," Harry said. "Don't light your wand, it would only attract attention."

They stumbled around blindly until they reached a chainlink fence leading into the street. Malfoy needed help climbing the fence as his umbrella kept getting in the way. At least it was not raining in this part of town.

"Couldn't you Apparate in a better spot?" Malfoy asked once they were both safely on the other side of the street. He brushed some dirt off his robe, then held the sleeve under the white light of a lamppost and frowned at it. "This is not a Muggle street, is it? Who cares if someone saw us arrive?"

"It's not a Muggle street," Harry agreed, "but I'd rather not attract attention. People around here don't like outsiders."

Malfoy looked up and down the street, no doubt taking in the runes and the graffiti scribbled all over the walls of the buildings. There wasn't a soul around. Malfoy shivered.

"If you changed your mind, you're still in time to leave," Harry said.

"I haven't," Malfoy said, his jaw set hard. "I'm… Merlin, it's cold here." He fumbled for his wand with fingers that were not quite steady, then passed it all over his clothes. A fine mist rose from his robes and quickly dissipated. "That's better, I was starting to grow mould with all this humidity. Aren't you going to dry your clothes, Potter?" he added, staring at Harry.

Harry scoffed. "It's not bothering me," he lied. A puddle was starting to form where he stood.

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder. "Then lead the way."

As they walked down the street side by side, Malfoy kept turning his head this way and that to check that there was nobody following them. A cat meowed in the distance and Malfoy jumped a mile.

The neighbourhood wasn't truly dangerous, just seedy and run-down, but Harry resolved to tell that to Malfoy only after they were back at the Ministry. It was amusing to see him get so worked up for no reason. Malfoy's twitchiness might have attracted attention if there were people around, but at this time of the evening there was nobody around to take notice of them.

The large double doors of the warehouse were boarded up and covered with graffiti. Harry stopped in front of them, and Malfoy shot him a puzzled look.

"Is _this_ the place?" Malfoy asked, wrinkling his nose and stepping closer to peer at a drawing of a huge and anatomically inaccurate purple penis.

Harry nodded. He checked one last time that the area was deserted, then took his wand from his back pocket. It didn't take him long to find the rune, even though it had been moved since his last visit.

He tapped the rune twice with his wand. The whole door rippled as if it were a sheet of water that someone had thrown a stone in. The boards, which had been nailed firmly over the entrance, shifted just enough to allow the doors to creak open.

Harry stepped through, with Malfoy following close behind. It was dark inside.

"Remember," Harry said. "You let me do the talking."

"I don't see why–"

"Who's there?" someone called out from the darkness within.

That would be Carrie, Harry thought. The woman had been an informant for the Aurors for a couple of years now, but she was still as mistrustful as the first time they'd met. Harry took a few steps inside, slowly, so as not to trip over something.

"It's me, Harry."

"Finally!" Carrie exclaimed from wherever she was. "Come in, dear! Close the door behind you."

Malfoy did so, and they were plunged into complete darkness. A few lights flickered into life from lanterns that hung from the ceiling, and Harry shielded his eyes from the sudden glare. Malfoy, who hadn't been expecting it, startled and almost bumped into Harry.

"I'm in the back," Carrie said.

They were in a warehouse packed tight with crates. Instead of being piled in neat rows, the crates were stacked haphazardly against one another so that they formed a sort of maze. Last time Harry had been here, the crates had been stamped with the names of places from Peru and Argentina. Now, the crates were marked as coming from Singapore, Hong Kong, Japan.

The maze of crates had shifted since Harry's last visit, so it was pointless to try and remember the way to Carrie's office in the back, but the lanterns lit the path for him and Malfoy. Harry glanced around as they walked, committing the places on the crates to mind.

Malfoy trailed close behind. "Is this all contraband?" he whispered in Harry's ear.

"On the contrary," Harry replied in an undertone. "Most of it is legitimate." If it weren't, Carrie wouldn't meet him here. "Carrie is in the import/export business, she's got contacts all over the world."

"My latest venture is textiles – silk and brocades from the Far East," Carrie said. She sounded as if she were right in front of them.

Harry snickered at Malfoy's startled expression. "Careful what you say," Harry said. "Sound carries here."

"Thanks for letting me know," Malfoy replied, stiff.

Their footsteps echoed among the stacks of crates piled high. Carrie was at the far end of the warehouse, doing inventory and ticking off items in a grubby notebook. Even though she was at least ten years older than Harry, she wore ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. Her arms displayed an impressive amount of tattoos and her white, curly hair was pulled into a messy bun.

At Harry's approach, Carrie turned and squinted at him and Malfoy in the dim light. "What's this?" she asked. "I said I didn't want other Aurors involved."

"I'm not an Auror," Malfoy sniffed.

Carrie stepped closer, getting into Malfoy's personal space. "Who are you then? His boyfriend?" Her voice was low and raspy. "This ain't a picnic, pretty boy."

Malfoy bristled. "I'm–"

"A colleague," Harry finished for him. "But he's not with the Auror office. He's… helping me with a case."

Carrie hunched her shoulders and turned aside. "And what case would that be?"

"That's confidential," Harry replied. "But you have my word that it's not related to your smuggling."

"I never!" Carrie exclaimed. "Smugglin'? _Me_?" Her outrage would have sounded convincing if Harry didn't know any better.

"I told you, I don't care about all that," Harry replied. "We just want information. People are dead and–"

"People are dead!" Carrie repeated, pulling at a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face. "Do I look like I care? I don't want the law to take an interest in my business!"

"This _is_ business," Harry said. "I'm paying you to answer my questions, remember?"

"I'm not sure I wanna answer any questions," Carrie replied.

At the same time Malfoy exclaimed, "You pay her?!"

Harry glared at Malfoy, but it was Carrie that he spoke to. "I understand that you know about a ship that came in last year."

"Lotsa ships come in all the time," Carrie said, staring up at the ceiling beams far overhead.

"You mentioned a particular ship in your letter," Harry insisted. "The one from East Africa."

Carrie pouted and didn't reply, making a show of thinking about it.

Malfoy stepped forward. "Listen here, madam," he snapped, "we're very busy and don't have time to waste with you! It would give me great pleasure to arrest you on one of the many charges you no doubt have against you, but I'll overlook it just this once if you tell us everything you know."

Carrie stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. It echoed loudly in the warehouse. "Bossy, ain't he?" she asked Harry. "Is he always like this?"

"Worse, usually," Harry replied. From the corner of his eye he could see that Malfoy's cheeks were turning scarlet with rage. "So will you give us the information?"

"Only because it's _you_ asking," Carrie demurred. "You're still going to pay me, right?"

"Of course," Harry said before Malfoy could speak again. "Tell me about the ship. What was it called?"

"The _Griffin_ ," Carrie replied. "Came in a few months ago carrying a cargo of potion ingredients: newt's eyes, Abyssinian shrivelfigs, Bulbadox juice… All legitimate! I've got the paperwork to prove it, would you like to see?" she added, turning to Malfoy and batting her eyelids.

"No, thank you," Malfoy replied stiffly. "Where exactly did the ship come from?"

"Lots of places," Carrie said. She frowned with the effort of recollection. Harry didn't buy the act: she had excellent memory. "The last port of call was Casablanca, and before that the Horn of Africa… Djibouti, I believe it was."

Harry shot Malfoy a questioning glance and Malfoy nodded.

"That sounds likely," Malfoy murmured, looking thoughtful. "It could have been captured inland and then transported to a port."

"There might have been a… creature aboard the ship," Harry explained. Not knowing what Carrie knew, he wasn't sure how much he could safely say. "Do you know of anyone who's trafficking live animals? Or perhaps it was a special delivery for someone?"

"I don't like to rat on a colleague," Carrie replied, chewing on her lower lip. "But as it happens, it's not what you think."

"Meaning?" Harry prompted her, and Malfoy started tapping his foot.

"It happened as they were unloading the cargo," Carrie said. "Cap'n came up to me, said he'd picked up somethin' unusual, and would I like to buy it?"

"What was it?" Harry asked.

"A cub," she replied.

"Which species?" Malfoy asked. Despite his bored tone, his eyes sparkled with interest. For the first time in a long while even Harry felt a rush of hope.

"Cap'n never said," Carrie replied. "He spoke as if it was somethin' real rare and precious, but folks always do that when they wanna clinch a sale."

"Can you describe it?" Harry asked.

Carrie shook her head. "I never saw it or nothin'. They kept it down below and wouldn't let anyone nearby. Think the crew was growin' nervous about having it aboard."

Malfoy glanced at Harry. "It would have been much smaller if it was captured as a cub. Easier to transport. Easier to feed and manage."

"Until it grew too large," Harry agreed. "And they had to get rid of it by selling it to some poor sod."

"I didn't buy it!" Carrie exclaimed. "Too much trouble for me. I deal with potion ingredients, and that's it."

"And silk," Harry added, casting a pointed look to the crates around them. "And information." And plenty of Class A Non-Tradeable Goods, though he didn't say that.

Carrie shrugged. "I gotta turn a profit somehow. It ain't like it was back in my grandparents' day: folk don't make potions at home any more, they buy 'em ready-made. And potion companies don't buy ingredients from the apothecary at the corner, they've got their own suppliers."

"All this talk of business is riveting," Malfoy drawled, "but shall we get back to the matter at hand? If you didn't buy it, then who did?"

"Dunno," Carrie replied. "But whoever did is a fool. I could see the crew didn't like it one bit – talkin' about the creature in hushed whispers and makin' excuses not to go down to where it was kept."

"Did you hear it, perhaps?" Malfoy asked. "Roaring, scratching, strange noises…? You have got to give us something! Otherwise we can't even be sure that there _was_ a creature aboard that ship, let alone what creature it was."

Carrie seemed about to say something, then shook her head. "No, I didn't hear anything," she muttered. "But I'm tellin' the truth! There was an animal!"

Harry considered her story. It wasn't a lot to go on with, but knowing that the Nundu had entered the country on a ship would definitely open new lines of inquiry. "All right," he said. "Give me the name of the _Griffin_ 's captain so I can check if your story adds up."

"And also the names of all the people you know who did business with him," Malfoy added.

"I wanna see the money first," Carrie said, holding out her hand.

Avoiding Malfoy's disapproving glare, Harry handed her a purse of galleons. Carrie peered inside to check, then nodded in satisfaction and pocketed the purse.

She wrote down a list of names on a page torn from her notebook and handed it to Harry. None of the names meant anything to him, but he would check the port registry for more information on the _Griffin_ tomorrow, and then track down the other traders. "Thanks, Carrie."

"Pleasure doin' business with you, dear," Carrie said, patting her pocket. The coins inside jingled. "Now if you two don't mind, I'm busy and I'd like to get on with my work."

Harry and Malfoy turned around to leave.

"What do you think?" Malfoy asked in an undertone as they navigated the maze of crates.

Harry glanced back to check that Carrie was safely out of sight. "It could be the… the creature we're looking for," he whispered. "Too bad she didn't see or hear anything, or we could have confirmed it."

"Well," Malfoy said with an air of superiority, "if she had heard anything, then it wouldn't be the Nu… the creature. They're famous for being silent, you know. Not only do they make no sound while moving, they don't have a cry or call either."

"That sounds uncanny. But it's good, it means we're on the right track."

"See?" Malfoy asked, sticking his nose up in the air. "I was right, you needed me to come along."

"I did not," Harry scoffed. "By the way, what did you think you were doing, attacking Carrie like that? What if she clammed up and refused to say anything? I told you to shut up and let me do the talking!"

"You don't get to give me orders, Potter," Malfoy said in a lofty tone. "In case you forgot, I report directly to Robards, which means that we're equal in rank."

"In case you forgot, I'm lead in this investigation," Harry pointed out.

"Says who?"

"Says Robards when he handed the case to me, weeks ago."

"He handed the case to _both of us_ when I came in."

"Not the same thing," Harry replied. "There can be multiple Aurors on a case, but only one is lead, and the lead is always the first Auror to get the case. And in this case _I'm_ the lead."

Malfoy considered this for a moment, then hmphed. "I'm not an Auror though, so that doesn't apply to me."

Harry wondered if he could murder Malfoy and get away with it.

"The fact that you're not an Auror means you should follow my lead!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Can't you let it go for once? This was good work. We made progress. Isn't that enough?"

Harry would have argued his point on principle, but it had been a long day and he was exhausted. "All right," he sighed. "We did make some progress. Robards will be happy about it."

\---

Robards dropped Harry's report on his desk, mouth pinched into a line of disapproval. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, Potter?!"

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"It says here," Robards said, pointing at the report, "that you and Mr Malfoy met with an informant last night."

"Yes," Harry replied. He wasn't sure what was going on. When he'd been called into Robards' office, Harry thought it was to provide more details on the state of the investigation. He hadn't expected praise from Robards, knowing it wasn't in his boss' character, but he hadn't thought he was going to be criticised. "Sir, regarding the information that we got, I've already found the _Griffin_ in the port registries and–"

Robards cut him off. "What was Mr Malfoy doing there?"

"He insisted on coming along," Harry replied with a shrug. "I figured there was no harm in it since the meeting place was safe."

Robards gaped at him. " _Safe_?" he repeated, loud enough to be heard by the whole office if not for the silencing charms placed on the room. "You figured it was safe? Let me remind you, Potter, that we have rules! You're not allowed to bring a civilian along when you're in the field, no matter how _safe_ you deem the place!"

"But he's not a civilian, is he? He's a liaison! Sir," Harry added, quickly, seeing Robards' glare.

"All the more reason to keep him safe," Robards replied. He started pacing up and down the carpet. His cloak billowed around him, brushing against piles of paper and books that were scattered everywhere in the tiny office. "Only yesterday, I had to beg Grizelda Trentwith to let us retain Mr Malfoy's services while they're still needed."

Harry snorted. "I bet she was glad to be rid of him for a little longer."

It was the wrong thing to say. Robards turned around to glare at him. "I don't find this funny, Potter! What would you have done if you were attacked?"

"Sir," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "Aurors are not supposed to be in the field alone, either, but we do it all the time."

"That's because the Auror Department is stretched thin," Robards said, shaking his head mournfully. "But Mr Malfoy isn't a trained Auror, he's a liability! His job is to help you track down the Nundu. No more."

"He _is_ helping me!" Harry exclaimed. It wasn't fair that Robards was scolding him because of Malfoy's actions, but at the same time he got the feeling that Malfoy's contributions to the case kept being overlooked. Just the fact that Robards had meetings with Harry alone and not Malfoy spoke volumes. "It was Malfoy who figured out that the creature was a Nundu, and now he's looking into the habits of Nundus to get a lead on the creature's whereabouts."

"He can do that from his desk," Robards said. He sat down and steepled his hands in front of himself. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course," Harry replied automatically. He had no intention of taking a liability into a combat situation. "But, sir, if Malfoy could be allowed on the field when there's no danger…"

"Don't try my patience, Potter." Robards sighed. "If anything like this happens again, I'll have no choice but to send Mr Malfoy back to the Beast Division. We can't give them the impression that we don't care about the safety of the people working with us!"

"No, sir," Harry managed to say between clenched teeth. So that was how it was: Robards was worried about internal politics. If Malfoy got hurt while acting as a liaison to the Auror office, it would give Trentwith leverage and hurt Robards' standing.

"You keep looking into this ship, Potter," Robards said. "As soon you find something concrete you come straight to me."

"Right," Harry muttered. "I'll get back to work then."

He marched out of Robards' office and slammed the door behind him. A few heads turned his way but thankfully nobody asked anything as Harry walked back to his desk.

Only Ron seemed impervious to Harry's mood. He glanced up from his work and gave Harry a distracted nod. "How did it go?"

By way of answer, Harry groaned and dropped into his chair.

"What happened?" asked Malfoy, who had just returned with tea. He set it down on his desk and frowned at Harry. "What did Robards say?"

"My boss," Harry said, glaring at Malfoy, "is pissed because I broke the rules by allowing you to meet the informant."

"Oh." At least Malfoy had the decency of looking embarrassed. "I didn't think it would be an issue. It wasn't as if there was any danger, right?"

"That's what I told him," Harry replied, curt. "You can go and argue your point if you want. Fair warning, he seemed in a mind to send you back to the Beast Division."

Malfoy flinched.

"That sounds like a great idea!" Ron exclaimed with exaggerated brightness. "Go on, Malfoy, it's time for you to bugger off."

"I'll leave once I've finished here, thank you very much," Malfoy replied.

In the awkward silence that followed, Malfoy placed a cup of tea in front of Harry. "Here," he said. Then, when Harry didn't reply, "You take it with one sugar, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, looking up from the steaming mug to Malfoy's face. "Er, thanks."

"Don't mention it," Malfoy replied, sitting down at his desk.

Ron leaned sideways and peered suspiciously at the mug, which was patterned with buttercups. "How do we know it's not poisoned?"

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder negligently. "I'm not in the habit of poisoning good tea," he said. "But I can taste it for you if you like, or we can exchange cups."

He raised his own mug, still untouched. It was the one with _Best Mum_ on it.

"No thanks," Harry replied. "I'll trust you just this once."

He wrapped his fingers around the mug, soaking in the warmth.

Ron sniffed. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to trust the git," he said, glaring at Malfoy. He glanced at his cup and rubbed his fingers absently. "Wish I'd made a cup of tea too."

"Sorry," Malfoy replied, taking a sip from his mug. "I'd have brought you some tea but I ran out of poison."

Harry pressed his lips together to stop himself from smiling at Ron's outraged reaction. He was still pissed at both Malfoy and Robards and didn't feel like joking around.

Ron hmphed and pushed himself to his feet. "Not that I've got the time, anyway," he grunted. "Harry, I've got to go, Kestrel asked me to help with training the recruits. We're practising duelling."

"Oh," Harry said, not quite able to hide his disappointment. "I thought she'd ask me again like last year…"

Ron busied himself with tidying up the papers on his desk. "Er, yeah," he muttered. The back of his neck was turning bright red. "She asked yesterday after you'd gone. I think she didn't want to give you more work, knowing you're so busy."

"You're busy too," Harry pointed out, "and I don't mind helping Kestrel, I like the work."

"It's no trouble for me," Ron said quickly. "The case of the counterfeit wands has been wrapped up so I can spare the time. I've got to run now – see you later, Harry!"

He was gone before Harry could reply.

Harry slumped in his chair, feeling dejected. It would have been nice if Kestrel had at least asked him first, instead of assuming he didn't have time.

Malfoy was looking curiously at him, but Harry didn't feel like explaining himself, knowing that Malfoy wouldn't understand. If Harry told him, he would say that Harry should have been glad to have avoided an addition to his workload, or something like that.

In a way it was true, but Harry always looked forward to helping Kestrel with the new recruits. He was good at it, too. Ron was a competent Auror, but he didn't have any particular knack for teaching.

As soon as the thought came into his mind, Harry felt ashamed of himself. He took a sip of tea to avoid Malfoy's questioning gaze.

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at the swirling liquid in the mug. "This is good."

"No need to sound so surprised," Malfoy drawled. Despite the casual tone, there was more than a hint of smugness in his words. "This is simply what tea should taste like."

"But… how?" Harry asked. He took another sip. The tea was somewhat weaker than what he usually preferred, but it was delicious all the same. He could even taste a hint of citrus instead of the overpowering bitter aftertaste that he was used to. "I can't believe this is the same tea I've been having for years!"

"The trick is to heat the water properly," Malfoy said in a knowledgeable tone. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. "It must be almost but not quite to boiling point, and the leaves must not be left to steep too much." His smirk widened. "Also, it helps if you don't use subpar teabags."

Harry, who'd been listening carefully, suddenly looked down at his tea. "What?"

"I don't know which brand you have here in the office but it's atrocious, you should look into changing your suppliers," Malfoy said. "I brought my own tea leaves from home. As expected, even you can tell the difference."

"Should've known," Harry snorted. "Even your tea has to be fancy."

"If by 'fancy' you mean 'not taste like sewage', then yes, I'm guilty as charged."

Harry snorted with laughter and shook his head. They finished their tea in silence.

"So," Malfoy said, swirling the last of the tea around in his mug. "Did you find the _Griffin_ 's captain?"

"Not yet," Harry replied. It took a moment for Harry to remember that he was supposed to still be angry at Malfoy because of Robards. He set that aside for the sake of the case: he was too tired to keep arguing with Malfoy anyway. "The _Griffin_ hasn't been back since she left London months ago, but I tracked down all the merchants who did business with her captain."

"You mean all the legitimate merchants," Malfoy pointed out.

"Yeah." Harry took a roll of parchment from the clutter on his desk and handed it to Malfoy, who began to read it. "Our department unfortunately lacks a complete list of all active smugglers, imagine that."

"Shocking," Malfoy drawled. As he spoke, he tapped his fingers absently on the list's names. "How likely do you think it is that the _Griffin_ habitually transports contraband, anyway?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "Very likely. You don't flaunt international law by bringing a Nundu from Africa to Europe on a whim."

"I agree. Which means that the Nundu's buyer might be tied to animal trafficking."

Harry nodded. "In which case, there will be no paper trail tying the buyer to the _Griffin_."

"You'll just have to hope that wasn't the case," Malfoy replied. He held out the list to Harry. As Harry leaned over to take it from him, their fingers brushed. Malfoy drew in a breath. "Listen, Potter…"

"Yes?"

Malfoy hesitated before speaking. "So far, we've… assumed that the Nundu is on the loose, that it has a lair where it hides between attacks."

"Yes," Harry said again. "That's your theory, isn't it?"

"Yes and no," Malfoy said. "I'm not so sure. The fact that it was captured as a cub changes things, too."

His fingers drummed a beat on his desk. He had very long, slender fingers – or maybe bony would have been a better description. Harry wondered if he was getting enough food. He'd never seen Malfoy going on lunch break, though he did disappear sometimes around lunch time.

Harry shook his head. "What are you getting at?"

"This is just a hypothesis, mind you," Malfoy said. "But… I think we should also consider the possibility that the Nundu didn't run away from its owner."

"You mean," Harry said, slowly, as realisation dawned on him, "you mean someone is unleashing the creature on purpose?"

"It's a possibility!" Malfoy exclaimed. He sounded defensive but his gaze didn't waver as he stared at Harry. "It would explain why I haven't been able to pinpoint the lair yet, despite my extensive research."

Harry shook his head and turned to look at the map of London pinned on the wall of his cubicle. Colour-coded pins marked dozens of locations – crime scenes, clues, witnesses, all places of interest that he'd visited in the past few weeks.

"If someone's hiding the Nundu, it would completely change the scope of our investigation," Harry said. He'd have to look at the victims' profiles again to check if there was any link, in case the attacks weren't casual. He'd have to look into all possible hiding places that a creature couldn't access but a human could.

"I know," Malfoy muttered. "I'm not in the habit of changing my mind so easily, you know. But I've given it a lot of thought, and given the new information available, it seems more and more likely that there's foul play involved."

Harry made an annoyed sound, trying to take it all in. If it was true, and it did sound plausible if not probable… "I'll go over everything once more," Harry said. "There might be something that I overlooked because I didn't consider human involvement."

"Likewise," Malfoy agreed.

"Then I'll go meet the merchants on the list," Harry continued, "and I'll look into the animal trafficking angle."

Malfoy nodded. "I can take care of that last one. You're on your own with the merchants, though, unless you want me to question them by post." A glint of amusement flashed in his grey eyes.

"I'm not sure how effective that would be," Harry snorted.

Curse it, Harry thought, he could have really used Malfoy's help on this. Malfoy might be a pain in the arse to deal with, but he did provide a fresh perspective to the line of questioning.

"Maybe I could help," Malfoy said, giving Harry a meaningful look. "As long as Robards doesn't find out…"

The offer was tempting. "If he does find out, he's going to kick you off the case," Harry said, jerking his head towards Robards' door. "You sure you want to risk it? Thought so," he added, as Malfoy pursed his lips into an annoyed frown.

"That's fine," Malfoy said, slumping his shoulders. "I've so many other things to do, I don't know where I would have found the time to question anyone."

Harry hummed his assent. Malfoy turned away, pulling a large volume open in front of himself.

"What?" Malfoy asked, confusing Harry with the question until he realised it was because he had spent the last few seconds staring at Malfoy.

"Have you ever trained for magical combat?" Harry asked. "Aside from Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, that is."

Malfoy shot him a questioning look. "I haven't. Unless you consider that fiasco of a duelling club back at school."

"No, I don't think that counts," Harry said, still staring at him. He had an idea, but it was so ridiculous he hesitated to say it out loud.

"Why do you ask, anyway?"

"I was just wondering," Harry tried, "whether you'd like to learn."

"Learn how to duel?" Malfoy repeated. He gaped at Harry, disbelief on his face. Harry nodded. "From _you_?"

Harry had been thinking about Auror training – Malfoy could join the weekly duelling classes in the gym – but now that Malfoy had mentioned it he could see that it was a better alternative. It would be awkward for Malfoy to even sit in on Auror classes, given that he was still generally disliked in the office. One-on-one lessons, on the other hand, meant that he could learn the rudiments much more quickly.

"I…" Malfoy hesitated. "What's the point?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. His tone was breezy but his pale grey eyes darted aside to avoid Harry's.

"If we convince Robards that you're not completely helpless…"

"Thanks," Malfoy murmured.

"…he might allow you to help with some of the field work," Harry finished.

"A tempting prospect."

Despite his tone, Harry didn't miss the spark of interest in his eyes. Malfoy _had_ looked rather frightened the previous night, when they were in that deserted neighbourhood. Maybe he was interested in learning after all.

"It would be just the basics," Harry went on. "Self-defence, disarming opponents, incapacitating them…"

"How do I know you're not just tricking me so you can use me for target practice?" Malfoy asked.

"I would only if you're too slow to dodge," Harry joked. Malfoy's expression didn't change. "I'm serious though. I've been helping a colleague with beginners' classes for years, and there was also Dumbledore's Army when we were in school."

It was only when Malfoy flinched that Harry realised maybe he shouldn't have mentioned Dumbledore.

"Do you even have the time to spare for training?" Malfoy asked.

Harry didn't, not really, but in the long run it would be better to spend a few hours teaching Malfoy if it meant he'd be able to enlist his help later on. Whichever way he looked at it, the Nundu wasn't going to be caught any time soon.

"Sure," Harry said, "I can spare the time. What about you?"

Malfoy hesitated. "No, thank you. Duelling doesn't sound like my thing at all. We don't even know for sure that Robards would let me do field work, even if I did know how to fight."

Harry couldn't quite read his expression. Was Malfoy dismissing combat magic or Harry's skills?

"Do as you like," Harry said, turning back to his desk and grabbing a pile of correspondence. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I will," Malfoy replied, in the assured tone of someone who had already decided that he wouldn't.

\---

"Hold the lift!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry did so, and a few moments later Ron stumbled inside, half-hidden behind a large wooden crate.

"Thanks, mate," Ron huffed. He shifted the weight in his arms. "Level Two – I've got to put this in storage."

"Sure."

Luckily the lift was almost empty. The other two people inside shifted around to make room for Ron and his box. It was lunch time, so most employees were out or eating in the cafeteria, and the influx of visitors had stopped. Even the paper planes carrying messages were scarce.

"Did you eat already?" Harry asked as the lift began to move.

"Yeah, had an early lunch with Hermione," Ron replied from somewhere behind the box. "She spent most of it revising her notes for a meeting," he added, sounding in equal parts fond and exasperated. "What about you?"

"I've got a sandwich," Harry said, glancing down at the sad little brown bag in his hand. He was starting to regret not getting two, as the ones from the shop at the corner were rather small and he was famished after walking around all morning.

"I meant to ask," Ron said, after both the other men got out on Level Seven. "Any progress on your case?"

"Yeah, but it's slow going," Harry replied. "At least Robards is pleased that there _is_ some progress. He's really stressed about this case. I met with him this morning to give him the latest updates and he sounded even more depressing than usual."

"What about that git Malfoy? Can I hope that we'll be rid of him soon? It's been driving me bonkers, having him just two cubicles way, and I don't even have to work wit him."

"To be honest," Harry said, "we haven't argued much in the past few days. But I think that's because I haven't spent much time at all in the office."

Ron guffawed. "You had me worried for a moment. I thought you were going to say 'he's not too bad once you get to know him', or something like that."

"No way," Harry replied with a grin. "He's just as annoying as always. Especially when it comes to reports. He keeps nitpicking them."

"Urgh," Ron groaned. He shifted the box in his arms so he could peek at Harry from behind it. "Hasn't anyone told him that writing reports is a pain in the arse, and that they should be dealt with as quickly as possible?"

"I think he subscribes to the Robards school of thought. You know, a report should be as detailed as possible, and all that," Harry said.

" _Urgh_ ," Ron said again.

Harry made a non-committal noise. In truth, reports aside, he was starting to appreciate Malfoy's attention to detail. It was proving to be an asset in a case involving dozens of persons of interest, as Malfoy was quick to draw links between facts. Malfoy was clearly bent on getting a stellar endorsement from the Auror office, but as long as he worked hard to get it, Harry had no complaints.

As they stepped out of the lift, Ron turned towards the large room which the Aurors used as a gym while Harry went through the double doors of the office. It was quiet in there too, as most of his colleagues were out having lunch.

Malfoy was one of the few people still at their desks. He looked up at Harry's arrival and frowned.

"Another greasy sandwich?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It's not greasy," Harry said. "It's _delicious_."

Malfoy shuddered theatrically. "Your eating habits leave much to be desired."

"You're one to talk," Harry replied, tossing the paper bag onto his desk. "I've never seen you eat since you got here."

"I eat," Malfoy said, flat.

Harry wasn't so sure of that. Malfoy seemed to be all bones, so much that Harry could see blue veins under the skin of his wrists. He could have done with a sandwich too.

As he ate, Harry fielded questions from Malfoy, who seemed intent on figuring out the location of the Nundu through a complex system of exclusion.

"I don't think it's in Chelsea," Malfoy said, tracing an outline around the area in blue ink. "If what you told me about your visit to Mr Wilkes is true, there's no way a Nundu has been living in the area for months without his owls getting restless."

"Of course it's true," Harry said between bites. "Wilkes has no reason to lie, his business is legitimate."

Malfoy made a dismissive noise. "If you're sure. Anyway, there's also the fact that Chelsea is too far from the location of the second murder. The Nundu wouldn't have been able to get back before sunrise."

"If the Nundu has a handler," Harry said, "they might have used a concealment charm so that the beast passed unnoticed."

"That's a possibility, but it's unlikely. Nundus don't like daylight, it would be much harder to control one when the sun is up. Not that it's easy to control one at any time of the day," he added in an undertone. As he spoke, he crossed out Chelsea with a latticework of lines.

Harry pushed his chair closer so he could look at the map. There was a jagged red perimeter drawn around the city, marking the area where Malfoy thought they should search based on the location of the three kills. The lair of the Nundu was most likely somewhere in the triangle made by connecting the three points, or at any rate not too far from there. Large areas within the perimeter had already been crossed out, while others were marked with various signs whose meanings were known only to Malfoy.

The traders who had been in contact with the _Griffin_ were marked with a rune, in different colours according to whether Harry had talked with them or not yet. "You should cross out this one," Harry said, pointing to a menagerie near Paddington Station. "The owner was arrested months ago for violating the Experimental Breeding Act – if he were hiding a Nundu it would have been found when the Aurors went through his shop."

"Please stop dripping crumbs all over my map," Malfoy said, dipping his quill in the inkwell. "And for Merlin's sake don't brush them away now, the ink's not dry yet!"

Harry, who had been in the middle of doing just so, froze with his hand in mid-air and gave him a sheepish look.

An owl came in just then, flying low over the cubicles and perching on the partition between Harry's cubicle and Ron's. Harry gave it the last morsel of ham from his sandwich in exchange for the letter tied to its leg.

"Who's writing to you with such urgency that they're sending owls during daytime?" Malfoy asked.

Harry ripped open the letter and glanced at the first few lines. "Finally!" He jumped to his feet, startling the owl who had settled and was busy grooming his feathers.

"What?"

"Ollivander's niece has found her uncle's ledgers," Harry said. He tossed Malfoy the letter and grabbed his cloak. "Which means I might finally find out the name of the third victim."

"It sounds as if she's saying that you'll have to search for the right entry yourself," Malfoy said with a frown. "Because she's 'busy'. Well, other people are busy too!"

"It can't be helped," Harry said. "We've got to put a name to that victim, one way or another."

Malfoy got to his feet. "I'll come too – I'm better than you when it comes to research."

"No," Harry said. "I mean, you are, but you can't tag along. Robards forbade it, remember?"

"Oh, come on, Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed. "It's bloody Diagon Alley, not a battlefield."

"You can go ask Robards, then."

"He's not in." Malfoy pouted. "Haven't seen him all day."

"Tough luck," Harry said, turning to leave. "See you later, Malfoy."

Truth be told, Harry did wish he could bring Malfoy along. Searching for the victim's wand in Ollivander's registry was just the kind of tedious task that he hated. Even though he'd have been happy to let Malfoy take care of it, he didn't dare suggest they flaunt Robards' order, in case Robards found out. Harry didn't care about getting reprimanded, but Robards had sounded serious when he said he'd send Malfoy back to the Beast Division, and it would be too much of a setback not to have Malfoy on the case any longer.

The Floo Network was full of people getting back to their office after lunch, so Harry decided to walk instead. At a brisk pace, it wasn't more than a few minutes on foot from the Ministry to Diagon Alley.

Harry hadn't been inside Ollivander's in a few years, but the shop was just as he remembered: dark and dusty, with rows upon rows of shelves stacked with boxes. He looked around while waiting for someone to show up.

Soon enough, a door creaked open in the back and a woman appeared, cleaning her hands on a tea towel. "Auror Potter," she said, inclining her head. "I wasn't sure you'd come today."

She was a tall, solemn woman, quite similar to her uncle. Her dark hair was streaked with silver and she wore simple black robes. The only note of colour that she had was a bright shawl thrown over her shoulders.

"This is a pressing matter for the Auror office," Harry said. "We're grateful for your help, Madam Ollivander."

She nodded. "I'm glad to be of assistance." She had a faint accent that Harry couldn't quite place. "The books are in the back, if you would care to step through."

"Books?" Harry repeated, following her behind the counter. "You mean there are multiple ledgers?"

Madam Ollivander pushed a small door open and stepped through, ducking her head under the low lintel.

"I'm afraid so, Auror Potter," she said. "This is an old shop and its records go back for centuries. My uncle gave me the current ledger, so I could keep it up-to-date, but there were dozens more hidden away in the cellars. I only found them by chance when I went down to check the stores for seasoned walnut wood."

They went through a narrow corridor, passing a couple of closed doors on either side, and emerged in a room that looked like a cross between an office, an old-fashioned parlour, and a storage room. A couple of chintz-covered chairs had been pushed against the wall to make room for a large trunk which sat open in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by piles of large volumes, and Harry could see many more volumes still inside the trunk. The whole room smelled of mouldy paper.

"That's… certainly a lot of records," Harry said. He took a step inside the room and picked up the closest ledger, opening it at random pages. It was full of rows upon rows of entries. Harry's heart plummeted.

Madam Ollivander stepped closer to peer from above his shoulder. "Yes. I'm afraid they're all in chronological order, so it's difficult to find a specific entry unless one knows the exact date it was entered on."

"Date? I don't even know the decade for sure," Harry muttered.

The bell rang before Madam Ollivander could reply. "Just one moment," she said, heading back towards the shop to see to her customer.

Harry sank on the only chair that wasn't covered in books and had another look at the ledger. The volume seemed to date from the seventies and contained not only a list of all the wands that Ollivander's had sold, but also the details of all the supplies he'd bought, as well as notes on wandmaking. The same ledger contained entries spanning a few years. Harry wondered how many he'd have to go through before he found what he was looking for.

"Auror Potter?" called Madam Ollivander. Harry got up and popped his head out of the door. "This gentleman says he's a colleague of yours."

Harry gaped. Standing behind her was none other than Draco Malfoy, looking rather smug.

"Hello, Potter," said Malfoy. "I was just passing by and I thought I saw you come in here."

"A likely story."

Malfoy sauntered forward as if he owned the place. "It's true," he told Harry, holding up a parcel wrapped in brown paper. "I went to Flourish and Blotts to see if my order had arrived – it's the book on Eurasian predators that I was telling you about, by the way. Merlin, are those Ollivander's records?" He peered into the parlour and made a face. "It's going to take us forever to go through all of that."

"Us? You're not staying," Harry said. "Robards–"

"Oh, please, you clearly need all the help you can get here," Malfoy snorted. Sadly, that was true.

Madam Ollivander glanced between the two of them, rather puzzled by the exchange.

Malfoy plucked the ledger from Harry's hands and started going through it. "Do you have the wand from the, er, crime scene?" he asked to nobody in particular.

"You mean the one belonging to our unidentified victim?" Harry asked. "You can say it, Madam Ollivander knows this much."

"Yes, well, I wasn't sure how much you told her," Malfoy muttered.

"She knows we're trying to find out who she is through her wand," Harry explained. "I couldn't just ask to see the shop's private records without any explanation."

Madam Ollivander nodded in agreement. "I'm sure you appreciate I can't show this to everyone, Auror Malfoy."

"I'm not an Auror," Malfoy said without looking up from the page. "So, the wand?"

"It's in the Ministry's vault," Harry replied. "We don't need it. Last time I was here, Madam Ollivander examined it and… now where did I put my notes?"

Harry started patting his pockets, swearing under his breath.

"Language, Potter," Malfoy said, turning a page.

"I think I forgot the notes on the wand at the office," Harry muttered.

Malfoy looked up at that and gave Harry an exasperated look.

"Pear wood and dragon heartstrings," Madam Ollivander said. They both turned around to stare. "The precise length is unknown due to the wand being damaged, but I'd wager between nine and ten inches. The dragon that provided the heartstrings was a Hebridean Black, and the pear wood was most likely imported."

"Yeah, that was it," Harry said, relieved. Even Malfoy seemed rather impressed.

"Wandmaking runs in the family, Auror Potter," she said with a slight smile. "That wand had been in use for some time. Certainly more than fifty years, though I couldn't be any more precise than that."

"Thanks," Harry said. "That narrows it down a bit."

"We'll just have to be methodical about it," Malfoy said, closing the volume with a snap and releasing a small cloud of dust. "Madam, do you have some parchment, ink and a quill? We're going to write down the dates of the ledgers we already checked, so we don't accidentally go through the same one twice."

Harry waited until Madam Ollivander left to get them the writing supplies, then turned on Malfoy. "Stop saying 'we'," he hissed. "You shouldn't even be here!"

"Relax, Potter! I told Weasley that I was going home, so Robards isn't going to find out unless you rat me out."

"I'm not a rat," Harry said, bristling.

"Then there's nothing to worry about."

"Fine!" Harry snapped. "But if you get into trouble with Robards, don't expect any help from me."

Madam Ollivander came back with a small writing desk and, after checking that they didn't need anything else, withdrew to tend to the shop. Harry wished she could've stayed and helped, but he could see that it would be unreasonable to ask her, as she was busy with her own work.

Malfoy was already kneeling next to a stack of ledgers. "Start with this one," he told Harry in a peremptory fashion, handing him the topmost one. "I'm going to put everything in chronological order first, to check that there are no volumes missing."

With a sigh, Harry took the ledger to a table next to the room's only window and started reading. The window opened on a courtyard and Harry could hear the sounds of Diagon Alley in the distance, along with thumps and thuds as Malfoy went through the ledgers and sorted them in neat piles on the floor.

"Need a hand with that?" Harry called as Malfoy crossed the room with a teetering stack of books in his arms.

Huffing, Malfoy deposited the books on a table and waved aside his offer of help. "Just keep reading, Potter, you'd just mess up what I've already sorted."

Harry rolled his eyes but did as he was told. After a while, Malfoy pulled up a chair and sat at the table opposite Harry. Between them there were two piles of ledgers, almost like a wall.

"These cover twenty years," Malfoy explained, "going back from fifty to seventy years ago. If it's not in here…"

"We'll just have to look further back," Harry finished for him. "But it will be here," he added with more certainty than he felt.

Harry didn't find anything in the first ledger, but he hadn't expected to. He made a note of the volume that he'd checked, put it aside, and started on another one. Sometimes he came across an entry about pear wood or dragon heartstrings that made him sit straighter and check the page carefully, but it was never a perfect match. It would be pear wood and unicorn hair, or oak wood and dragon heartstrings. Once he found the receipt for a wand made of pear wood and dragon heartstrings, but it was only seven and a quarter inches long, and the heartstrings came from a Peruvian Vipertooth.

"This is going to take forever," Harry muttered, tossing aside yet another volume that had proven useless. There was a growing pile of those on one side of the table.

Malfoy leaned forward to align the volume with the others. "Careful not to mix the ones we already checked with the ones we haven't!" he exclaimed, shooting Harry a dirty look across the table.

"Did _you_ find anything?" Harry asked without much hope. With each page that he turned, the task seemed increasingly impossible.

"I found a lot," Malfoy replied. "Ollivander's notes about his experiments are fascinating, and I found an entry for when my grandmother bought her wand. Nothing relevant to the case, though."

Harry looked at the piles of ledgers with renewed interest. "Huh," he said. "I guess my mum and dad are in here too, and my grandparents." He hadn't thought about it that way. Generations of Potters, marked by their visit to the wand shop.

"Sure," Malfoy said, as if it were obvious. "Well, not your Muggle ancestors, of course, but the Potters are an old family."

After that, Harry kept an eye out for entries about his family. He didn't find any, though he did spot a few Weasleys and a Bones that was probably related to Susan. It was Malfoy who found one for him, pushing a volume across the table to show Harry an entry about his great-aunt.

All the entries were written in the same hand, a rather elaborate copperplate that made it hard to read some of the names but was otherwise legible enough. Some of the pages were stuck together due to the humidity, necessitating them to use a spell to separate them. At least the ink wasn't faded. Harry didn't want to think about the possibility of missing the entry that they were looking for because it had become unreadable.

Madam Ollivander checked on them after a couple of hours and offered them tea and biscuits, which they both accepted with enthusiasm. Malfoy forbade Harry to touch the volumes as he ate, despite Harry pointing out that they'd gone through worse than crumbs and tea stains: one of the ledgers had a large rusty stain that Harry thought could be blood. Later, Malfoy prodded the stain with his wand for a few minutes and pronounced it to be wood polish.

At one point, Harry came across an entry for a purchase made by a Tom Marvolo Riddle. He did a double-take, then quickly moved past it. There was a bit too much history in there for Harry's taste.

It got dark while they were reading. Harry didn't notice that he was holding the ledger close to his nose to see the words on the page until Malfoy got up in search of a light. He returned with two lanterns lit by dancing purple flames, and set them on the table. Harry had to admit that it was easier to work without straining his eyes.

"Nothing," Malfoy said, pushing yet another ledger aside. He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is taking forever."

"It can't be helped," Harry said, turning a page.

Malfoy snorted. "Why hasn't Robards put more Aurors on the case? The risk of another attack is high enough – he should be putting every person he can spare on this."

Harry looked up sharply. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm not," Malfoy said, leaning away in front of Harry's vehemence. "It doesn't make sense that–"

"I _am_ all the Aurors he can spare!" Harry snapped. "Everyone else is busy with other cases!"

"But…" Malfoy stammered. "There can't be anything quite as dangerous as a loose Nundu…"

"Yes, which is why I'm covering this case only," Harry said. "Ron is following two investigations, as well as helping with Auror classes. The entire Auror office is understaffed. Did you never notice that half the desks are empty?"

Malfoy looked away. "The entire Ministry is understaffed."

"The Auror office even more so," Harry replied. "Do you have any idea how many Aurors died during the war? It takes time to train replacements, we won't be at anything even close to full strength for years."

"You've made your point," Malfoy muttered, still avoiding Harry's eyes.

Shortly after, Madam Ollivander returned to tell them that she was closing the shop for the night.

"Could we stay for a little longer?" Harry wheedled. He didn't know when he'd be able to take time away from his other duties to dig through Ollivander's ledgers. He shouldn't have taken the time to begin with, since catching the Nundu was more important and he didn't know whether learning the name of the victim would be of any use. But now that he'd started, it felt like a waste to give up.

Madam Ollivander hesitated for a moment before answering. "Of course," she said. "It's no trouble for me, since I'm staying in the rooms above the shop. I can see this is important to you, Auror Potter."

"Saint Potter," Malfoy murmured, getting to his feet.

Harry's expression turned cold. "I suppose you'll be going," he told Malfoy. "See you tomorrow at the office."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and grabbed his cloak from a peg near the door. "Sorry to disappoint but I'm only going to the post office to make a firecall. I have to let my mother know I won't be home for dinner."

"Really?" Harry stared. He hadn't expected Malfoy to stick around for so long: it was well past office hours and nobody would have faulted him for going home, especially since he wasn't supposed to be here in the first place.

"You're welcome to use my fireplace to make the call," Madam Ollivander said. "It will be quicker. And, since you're staying, I'll bring you some supper."

"That's very kind of you, madam," Malfoy said. "But there's no need for you to trouble yourself."

"Nonsense!" she replied, with such vehemence that Malfoy was startled into silence. "Skipping meals is bad for your health. Why, you both look like you're starving, you're so thin a gust of wind could take you away." She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

"I'm not starving," Harry said. Just then, his stomach grumbled loudly.

Madam Ollivander clucked her tongue. "Floo Powder is on the mantle, Mr Malfoy," she said. "I'll go see what I can find in the kitchen."

After she'd gone, Malfoy walked over to the fireplace and lit it with a spell. There was no wood or kindling, but that didn't seem to bother the flames which danced merrily in the empty space.

Harry wondered if he should offer Malfoy some privacy. It seemed pointless to go and stand in the corridor, though, since he'd still hear everything that was said in the room. He stared at the book open in front of him, but the words seemed to dance on the page. He needed a break, he thought, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

Malfoy took the pouch of Floo Powder and moved aside a chair so he could kneel in front of the fireplace. He tossed a handful of dust into the flames, which immediately shone bright green.

"Malfoy Manor," he said, sticking his head inside the flames.

He looked ridiculous, kneeling on the hardwood floor with his head inside the fireplace. Harry couldn't hear what was going on at the other side, so he only had half of the conversation.

"Hello? It's me," Malfoy said. "Could you please tell Mother… No, I don't need to talk to her, I just… Can you take a message…? Fine, I'll wait…"

There was silence for a while, save from the crackling flames. Malfoy shifted his position slightly.

"Good evening," Malfoy said after a minute or so. "Yes, I won't be home for dinner." It was strange to hear him sound polite for a change, instead of his usual standoffish jerk self. "Yes, work. Yes… No, don't worry… Of course I will. Goodbye, Mother."

Malfoy got up, wiping invisible specks of dust from his knees. Realising he'd been staring, Harry turned around and pretended to concentrate on the ledgers.

"Stupid house elves," Malfoy muttered. "Can't even take a message." He cleared his throat. "Do you want to make a call, too, Potter?"

"Er, no, thanks," Harry replied.

"Right." Malfoy put out the flames with a wave of his wand. "I forgot that Saint Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, works late every day. I bet when you call home it's to warn that you'll be on time for dinner for a change."

"You're talking nonsense," Harry snapped.

"I'm just saying," Malfoy sniffed. "It's rude not to warn that you won't be home for dinner."

"Not to warn _who_?" Harry asked. "I live alone."

"Oh," Malfoy said after a moment. Harry could see a spot of pink blush on his cheeks. "I– I thought you lived with the other Weasley. Your girlfriend, I mean."

"Yeah? Who told you, the _Daily Prophet_ 's gossip pages?" Harry's voice dripped sarcasm. "Well, it must be true if it's in the paper. I thought I was single, but what do I know."

"It was a honest mistake," Malfoy muttered. He didn't meet Harry's eyes. "They're always doing pieces on you…"

"Most of which are entirely made up," Harry pointed out. "Like the rest of their articles. I thought you of all people should know – remember when they wrote that you were Voldemort's son?"

Malfoy flinched at the name. "Yes, Mother was quite furious at that. I think she tried to hex the editor – she didn't, though," he added quickly. "She just cancelled our subscription and sent them a couple hundred Howlers."

Harry just grinned. "I've felt like hexing them too, at times, but I think that would just make it worse."

"They'd probably put it on the front page on the next day," Malfoy replied. " _Boy Who Lived Against Freedom Of Speech_ , or some such nonsense."

"They'd do that," Harry agreed, picturing the scene.

Madam Ollivander came in just then, carrying a tray. Harry and Malfoy quickly cleared some space on the table by moving the piles of ledgers aside.

"You two eat before going back to work," Madam Ollivander said, fixing them with a stern stare. "Kettle's on the stove in case you want some tea."

Dinner was mushy pea soup with crusty bread, and a small slice of blackberry tart each. Harry and Malfoy ate in silence. Harry couldn't think of anything to talk about with Malfoy, aside from work, and he really needed a break from thinking about the case. It was the first time Harry had a proper home-made meal in a week and he had every intention of enjoying it despite Malfoy's presence across the table.

Malfoy was the first to finish. "Too bad there isn't more," he said, chasing a few crumbs of pie crust with his fork.

"Seriously?" Harry asked around a mouthful of blackberries. "You're complaining after she got us dinner? And you had two helpings of soup."

"It was good," Malfoy said, not at all abashed.

Harry finished his tart and stretched his arms in front of himself. He felt quite happily full and could have gone to sleep there and then. He glared at the ledgers, still piled high on one side of the table. "Don't really feel like going through all that," he said, stifling a yawn.

"It would have been stupid of you to stay if you're not going to," Malfoy pointed out. He started piling all the plates and cutlery on the tray.

"Of course I'm going to keep searching," Harry said, curt. "I just meant – it's a boring job."

Malfoy hummed his agreement. "Yes, you must have been disappointed to find out that Auror work is not all daring adventures and duelling dark wizards."

Harry was about to give him a sharp retort, then thought better of it. "I was at first," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He sank back in the chair. "But I like a lot of things about my job. I don't like the endless reports, and this kind of mind-numbing research is the worst, but on the whole? I love my job, and that's something."

He stared at Malfoy as he said that, clenching and unclenching a fist. He'd been uncharacteristically honest in his answer. If Malfoy mocked him for it, Harry felt he could have hexed him here and then.

When Malfoy answered, though, Harry couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or sincere. "Good for you, Potter," Malfoy replied, staring straight at him. "Not everyone can say that about their job."

Knowing what he did about Malfoy's position at the Ministry, Harry couldn't reply. He just handed Malfoy his empty plate and glass, and Malfoy piled it on the tray.

"I'll go wash these up," Malfoy said, heading for the door.

"Oh, er, do you think we should?" Harry asked. He hadn't thought about helping with the dishes.

"Of course," Malfoy snorted. "It's the least I could do, since we're imposing on the woman's hospitality."

"Yeah, right," Harry muttered. He started to rise from his seat. "Do you, er, want a hand with…?"

Malfoy gestured for him to remain where he was. "Please don't, you look like someone who breaks dishes on a regular basis. I'll take care of this."

"Do you even know how to wash dishes? I thought your house elves did all that."

Malfoy sauntered out of the room without a reply.

With a sigh, Harry picked up the ledger he'd been reading before dinner and flipped the pages until he came to the page where he'd left off. He felt as if taking a break for dinner had only made him more tired: the words were starting to dance in front of his eyes and he had to keep a finger on the page to avoid losing his place.

Malfoy came back shortly after, smelling like lemony soap. "Madam Ollivander says she's going to retire for the night," he told Harry in an undertone. "She says to lock the door when we leave."

Harry nodded. "Can't take us much longer to find the right entry," he said, trying to sound optimistic. "We've already gone through thirty years worth of wand sales."

"Thirty-four," Malfoy pointed out. He seemed about to add something, but then he pursed his lips and bent his head over a ledger.

Time slowed to a crawl as they worked their way through more ledgers. The sounds coming from outside slowly came to a stop, until Diagon Alley was completely silent. Harry and Malfoy whispered when they had to exchange a few words, to avoid disturbing Madam Ollivander upstairs. Mostly they worked in silence, though, aside from the rustle of pages and the scratch of quills as they wrote down the volumes they'd already checked.

Several times, Malfoy went into the kitchen and brought back steaming cups of tea. He hadn't as much as yawned once, though he was drinking gallons of tea and had started propping his head up with one arm.

Harry almost fell asleep at one point. He'd closed his eyes for a moment, meaning to rest his sight, and ended up jerking awake as he began nodding off in his chair. He immediately looked at Malfoy, but the other man didn't seem to have noticed: he was cradling an empty cup of tea and his lips were moving soundlessly as he read from the ledger. Merlin, but he looked tired. Almost as tired as Harry himself felt. How long had it been since he got a full night's sleep? A few days? A week? Harry knew it would be better to go home and get some rest – he wouldn't do anyone any favours if he collapsed from exhaustion – but he couldn't bring himself to, not while the case was still open.

Malfoy stifled an exclamation. Harry, startled, realised he'd been staring at Malfoy for the past few minutes.

"Found anything?" Harry murmured, fumbling with the book he was holding.

"Yes, but it's not too good," Malfoy said. "Starting from here, the old entries are in a different handwriting."

"Ollivander's father?"

"Probably. We might have gone too far back."

"You mean we skipped it? No way," Harry hissed, as if denying it would stop it from being true. He was starting to worry too: they were both so tired, it would have been only too easy for one of them to miss the relevant lines amid all the entries.

"I'm just saying, we've gone way back. How old did Necro say that the victim was?" Malfoy frowned, deep in thought. "I don't think she could have used a century-old wand."

"Maybe she did," Harry replied. "Madam Ollivander didn't rule it out."

"Maybe we skipped it," Malfoy repeated, shaking his head. He caught Harry's eyes. "Since we've already come this far, though, we might as well finish the entries from this decade."

"Yeah," Harry murmured. "We'll find it."

It was getting light. Harry was starting not to feel sleepy any more, which was a sign that he was really tired and he would soon regret his decision of staying up all night. He reached for the last ledger on the table while Malfoy slowly turned the pages.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Malfoy stifling a yawn behind his hand. At least Harry was used to working through the night, unlike Malfoy. His hair, usually perfectly coiffed, was all mussed up where he'd leaned his head against his hand for support. Harry wondered if he'd have time to go home and shower before work. Probably not.

In the end, Harry almost missed it. His eyes passed over the entry and it took a few seconds for his brain to register the words. When he did, he had to go back and read the paragraph twice before allowing himself to believe it.

"Look here," he told Malfoy, pushing the ledger across the table and pointing to the end of the page. "Look!"

Malfoy glanced at the page. Harry was almost afraid that Malfoy would scoff and tell him that he'd dreamed it up. However, Malfoy narrowed his eyes and leaned over the ledger to take a closer look.

" _August 3rd, 1912_ ," Malfoy read in a breathless voice. " _Sold: a wand of pine wood, with a core of strings from the heart of a Hebridean Black, nine and a quarter inches in length. For the price of two galleons, to Miss Endicott of Plymouth._ This is it."

"This is it," Harry agreed. He felt like laughing. "We found it. We found her."

"Yeah," Malfoy agreed, flashing him a brief smile. "We did."

\---

"Prudence Endicott, sir," Harry said, reading from his notes. "We traced her through her wand, which had originally belonged to a cousin."

"Good work, Potter," Robards said in his usual cheerless tone. "The family will need to be informed."

"Already done," Harry said. It had been a busy couple of days. After identifying the first owner of the wand, they'd tracked it down to Prudence, and then Harry had gone all the way to Cornwall where she'd lived to talk with her surviving family and friends.

He didn't have much to show for his efforts, since Prudence's family hadn't even known that she'd gone up to London, but at least he felt that he'd done right by her. Malfoy's help had also been essential, and Harry had tried to give him as much credit in the official report as he could. He'd left out the part about him and Malfoy spending a sleepless night at Ollivander's, since he doubted Robards would approve of that.

"Did you find any link to the previous two victims?" Robards asked. He had to keep his voice low, since they were standing in the corridor near the door.

"Nothing so far, sir," Harry said. "But Malfoy is still looking into it."

"Keep searching," Robards replied. "This theory of yours, about someone controlling the Nundu," he added in a whisper, "it's very troubling."

"Malfoy's theory," Harry pointed out.

Robards nodded absently and checked his pocket watch. Lately it seemed that Robards had no time for anything: he was often absent, and even when Harry managed to flag him down he was always in a rush. "It would be bad enough if the public learned that there is a murderous beast on the loose," Robards muttered. "If they found out that someone is unleashing a Nundu in central London, why, there would be panic! We'd go back to the hysteria of You-Know-Who's time."

Harry had heard the same thing from Robards too many times over the past few weeks. "It won't come to that," he said. "Besides, if the theory is true, the victims could have been chosen based on some criteria that's meaningful for the Nundu's keeper. It would help us track it down."

"Yes, yes," Robards agreed with a sigh. "What about suspects? Anyone standing out?"

"There are some leads," Harry said. It was a safe thing to say: they were always leads, the problem was whether any of them would prove fruitful.

"If the news does get out, it will be good if we're already poised to make an arrest."

"I don't think we've got enough for that yet," Harry replied.

Robards sighed. "Keep working this angle. Look back to the other two victims too, there might be something that you overlooked."

"We're on it, sir," Harry said. "Both me _and_ Malfoy."

Robards groaned and brought one hand up to massage his temples. "I wish you'd stop mentioning Mr Malfoy for a minute. You sound like… ah, speaking of." He sighed.

The lift doors had opened to reveal a short witch with a mass of auburn hair piled on top of her head. Upon seeing Robards, she advanced on him, stomping her heavy boots.

"Hello, Grizelda," said Robards.

"Gawain, what a coincidence to meet you here," said the witch. Since they were standing right in front of the door to the Auror headquarters, Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from commenting.

"Potter, this is Grizelda Trentwith," Robards said. "The Head for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Harry had guessed as much. "Harry Potter, of course, needs no introduction."

"Of course," Madam Trentwith said, flashing Harry a smile that showed teeth. "I've heard all about you, but I don't think I've had the pleasure yet."

She held out her hand and Harry shook it. Despite her diminutive size, her grip was like a vice.

"Yes, I don't think we've met before," Harry said.

"Harry– Can I call you Harry?" Trentwith asked. "I've read so much about you, I feel like I know you already."

"Many people do," Harry replied, flat.

Either Trentwith didn't catch the barb, or she chose to ignore it. "How's Malfoy?" she asked. "I would like to say hello, I've hardly seen him since you stole him away."

"You make it sound like a kidnapping," Robards sighed.

"He's not in," Harry replied. "I think he said something about getting a book from the library."

"Did he? Well, I'm _sure_ he was telling the truth," Trentwith said, sounding anything but.

"Whatever do you mean?" Robards asked, but Trentwith didn't reply.

"It must have been hard for you, Harry, to put aside your mutual history and work with Malfoy," Trentwith said. "In fact, I was reluctant to let Malfoy be our liaison for this very reason," she said, holding a hand to her bosom. "But Gawain positively _badgered_ me–"

"I didn't!" Robards complained.

"–until I had to give in. I feel so guilty about sending you our newest recruit, but everyone else in my department was simply swamped with work, I couldn't have spared anyone else. You know how short-handed we all are," she said, turning to Robards.

"Nobody knows it better than me," Robards agreed. "And we're thankful for Mr Malfoy's help. Potter tells me that he's being an asset," he added, sounding somewhat dubious.

"He is," Harry said, staring down at Trentwith. "I can't give you the details of what he's working on, because it's classified information, but Malfoy's work–"

"Now, now, Potter," Robards said with a nervous little laugh. "Madam Trentwith is a department head, there's no need to be quite so strict."

He shot Harry a glance that was probably meaningful, but Harry couldn't begin to guess what exactly it meant. Likely to stop being an arse, but Harry found it hard to be diplomatic with Trentwith, knowing that she'd sent him Malfoy to set the two of them up for failure.

Meanwhile, Trentwith was studying Harry, tapping one lacquered nail against her chin. "You know, Harry, there's no need to be coy," she said after a moment. "I can see that Malfoy is a bad fit for a case that requires the utmost secrecy."

"You mean because of his past?" Harry frowned.

"Yes!" Trentwith agreed. "If he's not working out, just let me know. I can move some people around and send someone else to replace Malfoy."

Harry almost replied with something rude.

"Now just a minute, Grizelda!" Robards exclaimed. "I don't know how you're used to doing things in your department, but we don't work like that! We can't just… swap people in and out of a case willy-nilly," he said. His hands fluttered around as if to dispel the very idea.

"Like I said," Harry said, struggling to keep his temper in check, "Malfoy has been doing a good job. Having a different liaison now would just be a waste of time for me."

"I hope you're not just saying so for my sake," Trentwith said, giving him another toothy smile.

Harry seethed. Trentwith hummed to herself, either unaware or unconcerned with Harry's rage.

"Come to think of it," Trentwith said after a moment, "I went to check out Malfoy's employee file and I saw someone accessed it recently. Could it possibly have been you, Gawain?"

"Me?" Robards said, taken aback by the sudden shift in subject. "Why would I do that? You told me all I needed to know about Malfoy."

"Yes, of course," Trentwith replied. "But, since you say he's working so well, is it possible you're thinking about recruiting him for your own office?"

Harry blinked and stared at her. She sounded serious.

Robards dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense," he said. "I don't know why you think I would stoop so low as to pinch people from another department. It's true that we're short-handed, but it would be terribly bad form."

"I'm sure we could discuss this," Trentwith said, linking her arm with Robards'. "I've already informed the treasury that Malfoy's salary should come out of your department's budget this month, but if you plan on keeping him we should make it official. Just so I can start looking for a replacement." She gave Robards a syrupy smile.

"I assure you, Grizelda, I've no interest in the boy," Robards said. He tried to disentangle his arm, but Trentwith was holding him tight. "He's good enough for this one case, but he's not an Auror."

"Sir," Harry said to Robards. "If that's all, I'll return to work."

"Yes, Potter, of course," Robards said without looking at him. "I also need to go, I have a mountain of letters that need a reply."

"Oh, but I simply _must_ talk to you before the next budget meeting!" Trentwith exclaimed. "You won't believe what Wilkins is planning to do…"

"Really, Grizelda…"

"Goodbye, Harry," Trentwith called, steering Robards towards the opposite end of the corridor. "Say hello to Malfoy for me."

Harry turned on his heels and left without another word. It was a miracle he'd been able to refrain from yelling at the woman. He couldn't believe that someone so pushy and manipulative was head of a department. Though maybe that was how she'd got there – by exchanging favours and cutting out rivals.

And when it came to Malfoy, Trentwith was so determined to have him out of her department, she was like a dog with a bone. In fact, she reminded Harry of Aunt Marge's bulldog, though mostly the resemblance was due to the fact that he disliked both.

Harry pushed open the doors of the office and stepped inside. Malfoy was standing there, stock still.

"How… How long have you been here?" Harry blurted out.

"Long enough," Malfoy replied in a toneless voice. "Trentwith says hello. How nice of her to think of me."

Before Harry could reply, Malfoy turned around and stalked towards his cubicle, robes swishing around him.

Harry rushed after him. "Malfoy, wait! I had no idea you were back already."

"Obviously," Malfoy quipped, "otherwise you might have gone somewhere else to talk about how none of the Ministry's departments want me."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said. "I–"

They'd reached Harry's desk, and Malfoy stopped so suddenly that Harry almost ran into him. Harry caught himself on the edge of his desk.

"Let me make one thing absolutely clear, Potter," Malfoy spat out. He leaned forward, close enough that they were almost nose to nose. "I don't need your pity."

"I'm not–"

"I wasn't finished!" Malfoy cut him off. "You might think that this all comes as a shock for me, but it doesn't. See, I've known from the start that Trentwith doesn't like me, and I don't care! I'm good at my job and she's not getting rid of me so easily! Do you hear me? She's not!"

Harry glanced around, but Malfoy had been working as a liaison long enough that nobody was paying attention to their arguments any more. Ron was the only one who might have been interested in what Malfoy had to say, but he had Auror training at the moment.

"All right," Harry said in what he hoped was a conciliatory fashion.

Malfoy took half a step back. "What I want to do," he said in a tightly controlled voice, "is close this case quickly and go back to the Beast Division."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "You're joking, right? You want to go back to working under _her_?"

Malfoy looked quite flustered, but there was a determined glint in his eyes as he answered. "I've got to go back at some point. The longer I'm gone, the harder it will be to go back to my place. Anyway, Trentwith thought she was punishing me by forcing me to work with you," he added with a smirk, "but the joke is on her. Anything is better than working for that harpy."

Harry snorted. "Careful, Malfoy, that almost sounded like a compliment."

"Yes, well," Malfoy stammered, "even I make mistakes."

His cheeks flushed pink. He was so pale, the slightest blush showed on his skin.

Feeling that the conversation was getting weird, Harry cast around for another subject. "Is that the new book?" he asked, pointing to a slim volume on top of a pile on Malfoy's desk. Unlike Malfoy's usual reads, which were leather-bound tomes, this one had a brightly coloured cover showing a smiling sun.

"Yes," Malfoy said. If anything, his blush deepened. "A collection of folk tales."

Harry picked it up and flipped through it. "I guess you need a break after reading all that boring stuff for work, huh?" He peered at a bright illustration which seemed to depict dancing animals.

"This is for work, you dolt," Malfoy said, snatching the book back. "I ran out of scholarly texts on Nundus, so I'm looking into myths and legends. Anyway, what do you mean _boring_? Some of the lore is fascinating," he said, gesturing to the notes and sketches pinned around his cubicle.

"If you say so."

"For example," Malfoy said, warming up to his subject, "do you know that Nundus can go for days without eating? They gorge themselves on their victims and then lounge about in their lairs until they're hungry again."

Harry thought about it. "That would explain the intervals between the attacks."

"Precisely. I'm thinking the intervals aren't random either, they depend on how much the Nundu, er, ate from the previous victim. So if I look at which organs and tissues were missing from the three victims, I'll be able to estimate when a fourth attack might take place."

Harry frowned. "Malfoy… Did you get all these from Flourish and Blotts?" He gestured to the books. Tucked between the pages were receipts with the bookshop's stamp on them.

"For the most part, yes," Malfoy replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Why aren't you ordering them through the Ministry's library?" Harry shot back. "If you need books for reference you don't need to buy them, you can just borrow them – not to mention it would be quicker."

"Not for me," Malfoy muttered, turning aside to stare in the distance. "Somehow, my orders always end up at the bottom of the queue." He snorted. "Strange, isn't it?"

"You mean you can't check out books from the library?"

"Oh, I can," Malfoy replied. "Provided that I can find the book by myself, which is easier said than done since the Ministry's library is second only to Hogwarts' in size. Whenever I can't, the librarians always manage to find the books I need… after a week or two."

"They're doing it on purpose?" Harry asked, disgusted.

"Can't be," Malfoy said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "They assure me that they have _no idea_ how that keeps happening."

Even knowing what he did about Trentwith, Harry had thought she was an isolated case. He hadn't really thought that random employers at the Ministry would be resentful of Malfoy. "But– but that's–"

"Don't be so naive, Potter, it doesn't suit you."

"Has this been going on since you joined the Ministry?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Pretty much. I don't care."

"I do," Harry snapped. "To begin with, if you have problems getting books from the librarians, it means they're slowing down the investigation. _My_ investigation."

"No need to be so dramatic," Malfoy said. "It doesn't take me much longer to walk down to Flourish and Blotts, and if they don't have something in stock they can usually get it by the next day."

"Have you been expensing all of these to the Auror department? You do know they don't reimburse material that's already accessible within the Ministry, right?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I know."

He'd been buying books out of his own pocket all the time, Harry realised, just to avoid going to the library. He must have used it only for rare books that he couldn't get otherwise. Even though Malfoy had plenty of money to buy all the books he wanted, the whole thing was idiotic.

"Enough," Harry snapped. "The next time you need anything, you go down to the library and you tell them it's Auror business. Tell them that if they keep slowing up my investigation, I'm going to be along to ask them why."

"So I should use your name to get what I want?" Malfoy smirked. "You realise how entitled that makes you sound, right?"

"As long as it gets the job done, I'm not above using my name every now and then." Especially when it gave him the chance to get back at people who acted like arseholes.

"All right," Malfoy said. "Next time I'll try using the magic words: _because Harry Potter says so_."

Harry couldn't tell if he was pleased or disgruntled. Shaking his head, he turned aside to study the map of central London that Malfoy had pinned in his cubicle. It was so large, it took up half of the space.

"Right," Harry said, leaning past Malfoy to trace the river with a finger. "Today I'll be checking all the menageries around here…"

Malfoy cleared his throat. He seemed on the verge of speaking but he hesitated, biting down on his lower lip.

"What?" Harry asked, shooting him a sideways look.

"Your offer to teach me combat magic," Malfoy asked after a long moment. He spoke slowly. "Is it still valid?"

Harry turned around to stare at him. "Yeah," he replied, surprised.

Malfoy hadn't as much as mentioned it since Harry had spoken of it, so Harry had assumed he wasn't interested.

"I'd like to learn," Malfoy said, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said again. "Er, what about starting tonight at six?" He checked the calendar on Malfoy's desk. "Classes will have finished by then and there's usually few people around at that time."

"Fine by me," Malfoy said.

Harry was dying to ask him why he'd changed his mind, but he wasn't sure he would get a truthful answer.

\---

After a fruitless interview with a person of interest who proved not as interesting as he'd hoped, Harry returned to the Ministry and headed straight for the gym. He left his robes in the changing room and put on an old Chudley Cannons t-shirt, then stepped into the gym proper.

They'd been doing obstacle courses with the new recruits. The large room was full of wooden partitions, stacked boxes and crates, and wooden mannequins with targets painted on their chests. One of them was still moving, and Harry froze it with a flick of his wand.

He spent a few minutes pushing things around to clear some space. They'd be starting with the basics – disarming charms and the like – so they would need distance between them.

It seemed strange that nobody was around, and also that the gym had been left in disarray, until Harry realised that it was Kestrel's birthday. The instructor was probably at the Leaky Cauldron, celebrating with all her colleagues and several pints of Butterbeer. Harry had been invited, but he had so many things on his mind that he'd completely forgotten.

Considering, Harry decided that he'd wish Kestrel happy birthday on the following day. He didn't feel like drinking and being sociable, and he'd rather spend the time teaching Malfoy. Harry didn't know why Malfoy had changed his mind about learning combat, but he was going to make the most of it before Malfoy changed his mind again. Even if it wasn't enough for Robards to allow Malfoy on the field, knowing a few defensive spells was always useful.

The door to the changing room opened and Malfoy walked in. He was wearing the same clothes he usually wore under his robes – a shirt with a mandarin collar and trousers. Not quite the right attire for a gym, but the idea of Malfoy in a t-shirt was somewhat absurd.

"Hey," Harry called.

Malfoy didn't reply. He was already holding his wand, gripping it in his fist. His jaw was set.

Harry frowned. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"How dare you?" Malfoy snarled, striding forward. "How _dare_ you go through my personnel file?"

"…Oh," Harry said in a small voice. His face fell.

"You're not even trying to deny it?"

"Would you prefer me to?" Harry said through gritted teeth. His hand went to the back of his waistband where he'd tucked his wand. It had been Hermione who read the file, but Harry doubted Malfoy would appreciate the distinction, and anyway Harry wasn't going to throw his friend under the bus. "Yes, I know what's in your file. So what?"

"You had no right!" Malfoy exclaimed. "There's private information in there, about my mother and my father, and–"

"I never… I didn't read all of it," Harry said.

"Boring, was it?" Malfoy spat. "All those pages where they described me as dangerous, untrustworthy, _deranged_ …"

Harry flinched. Had that been the initial assessment of Malfoy that the Ministry had made? He couldn't believe it, but Malfoy didn't look as if he was joking around.

"How did you find out?" Harry asked.

"Funny you should ask," Malfoy replied. He gave a humourless laugh. "I used your name. I went down to the archives and asked them for a list of people who looked at my file. It's incredible how people will bend over backwards if one says it's for Harry Potter."

Harry remained silent, holding Malfoy's icy stare.

"I wanted to know if Trentwith was telling the truth," Malfoy went on. "I half-thought she'd made it all up – who could _possibly_ want to look at my file, right? Imagine my surprise when I found that Robards had never asked for my file, but your friend Granger had."

"It happened when you became a liaison to our department," Harry said in a low, measured voice. "I didn't even know that you worked for the Beast Division, I was curious! You'd have done the same if our positions were reversed."

"Maybe I wouldn't have!" Malfoy snapped. "Did you even stop to think that there are reasons why employee files are private? No, I forgot, rules don't apply to Harry Potter!"

"Drop it, Malfoy."

"Or else what? Are you going to hex me?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he pressed one hand to his breast. "After all, you did it once already."

Harry blanched. Like much of what had happened when he was sixteen, it was an ugly memory, and one he tried not to dwell on if he could avoid it.

"I'm not going to hex you," Harry said in a placating tone.

"Maybe I will," Malfoy said, and Harry was reminded that he had got very poor marks in negotiating.

Harry scoffed. "You wouldn't even be able to land a hit." Despite his words and his bravado, Malfoy was wide open. It would have taken Harry all of two seconds to hit and disable him.

"Want to bet?" Malfoy asked. He stepped forward and raised his wand.

Before he could say the words of a spell, Harry knocked the wand out of Malfoy's hand with a backhanded blow.

"Rookie mistake," he said with a smirk, stepping into Malfoy's personal space. "You got too close."

"Stop talking as if you know everything!" Malfoy growled. He closed the distance between them and crushed their mouths together.

Harry froze, paralysed by surprise, and then Malfoy's tongue was pushing into his mouth. The inside of Malfoy's mouth was scalding hot. Malfoy's hands fisted into the front of Harry's shirt and held him in place. Even without that, Harry wasn't sure he'd have stepped away.

Malfoy's eyes were squeezed shut, so Harry couldn't read his expression. Maybe that was better. Harry reached out to loop his fingers in Malfoy's belt, though he couldn't have said if that was to steady Malfoy or himself.

Harry licked into Malfoy's mouth, tasting tea and something sweet. He chased the taste and felt Malfoy tremble.

Then Malfoy pushed him away and Harry stumbled backwards. Malfoy's eyes snapped open. Harry stood staring at him, his breath coming in short gasps.

Maybe it was because he hadn't kissed anyone in a long time, but Harry felt dizzy and light-headed. He didn't know what to do. If he licked his lips he could still taste Malfoy on them.

Malfoy pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. He stumbled sideways and bent down to retrieve his wand, which had rolled some distance away. Then he turned around and left, and Harry couldn't think of a single thing to say.

\---

Primrose Hill before dawn looked so peaceful, it was hard to believe anything could be amiss. It had rained overnight, and a fine mist spread all over the ground, making the trees in the distance look soft and fuzzy.

Harry moved carefully through the wet grass, taking photos of the paw prints and claw marks. He'd already photographed those that showed on the fresh earth of the footpath, and Malfoy was sketching them so they could have a better idea of how the Nundu had moved.

"There's more here," Harry called out to Malfoy in a carefully neutral tone.

Malfoy didn't even turn his head. "All right," he replied, staring down at the ground.

"Looks like it came this way after, er, feeding," Harry added, following the tracks with his eyes. He could see a few smears of blood on the tall grass.

"I'll be over to sketch them after you're done," Malfoy replied. "Careful not to trod on them."

"Of course I won't."

He waited a few moments, in case Malfoy decided to add something, but that seemed to be all Malfoy had to say. Harry moved on, stepping around the marks and bending down to take close-up photos.

A dozen lanterns hovering in mid-air lit up the scene so that no detail would be missed. The glare was starting to strain Harry's eyes, but they had to finish quickly before the oncoming rain washed away every possible clue. Besides, the spells he'd used to keep Muggles away wouldn't hold much longer. Already he'd had to Confound a couple of passers-by into deciding to take a different route for their morning jog.

Harry stared at the ground through his camera's lens. Maybe it was good that they were too busy to take breaks. Things with Malfoy had been strange since the accident – the kiss, rather, since it hadn't been an accident at all.

Both of them were acting as if nothing had happened. Malfoy hadn't mentioned anything more about Harry reading his file, or about Trentwith. Harry wasn't sure he could go on like that. He was dying to say something, but he didn't know what.

He couldn't bloody well apologise for the kiss, since it had been Malfoy who had started it. Maybe the problem was that Harry had enjoyed it. He wouldn't have been so hung up about it if it had been a horrible, disgusting kiss. But that hadn't been the case – far from it.

Harry found himself thinking, like too many times before, of Malfoy's lips on his. He wondered what might have happened if they hadn't been inside the Ministry, if Malfoy hadn't run away. Malfoy's lips had been very soft when he'd pressed himself to Harry.

Realising that he'd been staring at nothing for a good while, Harry blinked and moved to the next set of paw prints. He mentally scolded himself: he couldn't afford to get distracted at a crime scene.

It might be that Harry was thinking too much about that kiss because it had been his first in a long time, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't the whole truth. He couldn't understand it at all. It wasn't as if Harry liked men – he liked women, he always had – but that didn't really matter when it came to kissing, did it? Kissing was just about lips, and tongues, and other things that Harry had ended up fantasising about late at night.

He would have to ignore his jumbled feelings for the time being, which was easier said than done since he was still working with Malfoy.

Harry whirled around when he heard a crack close by, but it was just Robards, Apparating in the middle of a copse of trees within the barrier.

Robards looked around to get his bearings and then started climbing uphill towards Harry and Malfoy. He raised one hand in greeting.

Harry slung the strap of his camera around his neck and went down to meet Robards halfway. It was easy to miss the Nundu's tracks despite the lantern light, and some of them had already been obliterated by the first people on the scene.

"I came back as soon as I could," Robards said. "What have you got so far?"

"The victim is a young black man," Harry said. "Same wounds as the other three – it's definitely the Nundu again. Necro has already taken the body away for the post-mortem," he added, seeing Robards scan the ground.

"Right," Robards said. "It was there, wasn't it? Where the grass is all flattened." He pointed to the side of the path.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. There was evidence of a brief struggle, but we think most of the devastation was caused by the Nundu thrashing around."

He glanced at Malfoy for confirmation, but Malfoy had moved downwind and out of earshot.

"Right," Robards murmured again. "I'll have to inform the Minister as soon as possible…"

"Sir." Harry took a breath. "The victim was a Muggle."

Robards, who had been staring out at the grassy hill, froze. "A Muggle?"

"Unfortunately, yes,"

"Are you absolutely sure?" Robards asked. "Maybe he just lost his wand in the attack."

Harry shook his head. Searching his pockets, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves and then produced the victim's wallet. "His ID shows that he was attending a Muggle business school. I'm– we're certain about this."

Robards looked as if he'd been dealt a physical blow. "It's bad enough to have another victim, but this? This is the worst case scenario. There is no way to keep a lid on things now: the Muggle police will have to be contacted."

"They won't take an active role in the investigation, though," Harry said. "Will they?"

"Goodness, no!" Robards exclaimed. "What would they know about Nundus? No, I expect we'll simply let them know that the victim died from an animal attack, and that we're handling it as part of a larger investigation."

Harry drew a sigh of relief. With some luck, he wouldn't even have to deal with the police personally. There was an office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that took care of all official interactions with Muggles, to make sure that they were in compliance with the Statute of Secrecy.

"All the same," Robards went on, shaking his head, "I have no doubt that Shacklebolt will want to talk with the Muggle Prime Minister. It's a pretty pickle."

"Wouldn't it be better if people were informed of the danger?" Harry asked.

Robards spread his arms. "And then what? Should we tell them to stay indoors from sunset to sunrise? We can't lock up the whole city, and I'm not about to suggest a curfew. It would only be a temporary and inefficient stopgap."

"You're right," Harry admitted. Even if the victims had known about the Nundu, they would not have been able to defend themselves from its vicious, lightning-fast attack. Maybe they would have stayed home if they'd known of the danger, but someone else would have been out in the streets. There was no way to stop the killings until they caught the Nundu.

Robards seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "I knew that there was going to be another attack," he said, staring out at the spot where the latest victim had died. In that moment he looked very old, and tired. "I didn't think it would be so soon."

"Malfoy did," Harry couldn't stop himself from saying. His calculations on the intervals between the previous victims' deaths had led him to predict the next attack days in advance.

"Even if I had believed his claims," Robards pointed out, "there was nothing we could do without knowing where the beast would strike…"

Malfoy had circled back to where they were standing. "I've finished marking down the location of all the paw prints and scratches that I could find," he announced. "Together with the photographs, it should be enough to deduce where the Nundu came from and which way it went after the attack."

Harry refrained from saying that he already had a good idea of that based on his observations. Malfoy was ignoring him and addressing Robards directly, and he wasn't in the mood to argue.

Robards gave Malfoy an absent nod. "You do that."

"Necro said the post-mortem will be ready by this afternoon," Harry said. "Meanwhile, I'll draft something for the Muggle police when I get back to the office."

"Send me a copy when you're done," Robards replied. "Before I get back to work, though," he added, with a slight hesitation, "I would like to have a word."

"Yeah?" Harry said, while Malfoy shot Robards a questioning look.

"Just with you, Potter," Robards said, motioning for him to follow. "You carry on, Mr Malfoy."

It was clearly a dismissal. Something flashed in Malfoy's eyes, but he didn't say anything and went back to studying the ground.

Harry followed Robards further down the hill until they were almost at the edge of the circle of light cast by the lanterns. "What is it?"

Instead of answering, Robards swayed on his feet. "How are things with Malfoy?" he asked.

Harry's heart skipped a beat, until he realised that Robards knew nothing about the kiss. He was only talking about their working relationship.

"Things are… good," Harry said. He glanced at Malfoy, who was just a grey silhouette in the distance. "He's been giving me some real help with the case."

Robards hummed. "Has he?"

Harry frowned. "Of course," he replied, still staring at Malfoy's figure. "He's been doing tons of research on Nundus, _and_ he's been helping me with collating information. In fact, if he could be allowed to help with field–"

"Don't you find it strange, Potter?" Robards asked. "That he knows so much about Nundus?"

Harry turned around to look at his boss. Robards' face was half-hidden in the shadows. "I don't think it's strange," he replied. "He works in the Beast Division after all. And, like I said, he's been looking into Nundus."

"But he's had no success in locating the creature so far. It all seems rather… convenient."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his tone harsh. He didn't like where the conversation was going.

"Potter, did Malfoy ever give you the impression that he knows more than he lets on?" Robards asked, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

Harry could only stare back. "Sir!" he exclaimed, startling a few birds who took fly from a nearby tree. "You can't mean… Do you think _Malfoy_ is responsible for these attacks?!"

"No, no, of course not," Robards said, in a tone that suggested he hadn't completely ruled out the idea yet. He glanced at Malfoy to make sure he was still out of earshot. "I'm just saying that, given his family history, we should consider the possibility that he has some insider information. Something he's not willing to share with us Aurors."

"Malfoy's family supported Voldemort," Harry snapped. "They weren't into animal trafficking."

"Of course not," Robards said in what he probably thought was a placating tone.

The whole conversation was absurd. Harry could detect Trentwith's influence behind Robards' sudden suspicions.

"Malfoy has nothing to gain by keeping information from us," Harry went on. "If he knew something about the Nundu, it would be in his interest to share it so he can get more credit for the creature's capture."

"He might have his reasons to stay silent."

"Yeah, reasons that include the fact that he doesn't have any inside information!"

Harry could see Robards wasn't happy at all with his answer, but he was so angry he didn't even care.

Robards glanced at Malfoy again. "I'm not sure I can trust your judgement on this, Potter," he said. "The fact that you were at school together might be blinding you to the truth about Malfoy."

Harry snorted. "I hated him in school."

"That's precisely why. You might be overly trusting of him now, in an attempt to show that you're not biased."

That gave Harry pause. Was that what he'd been doing? It didn't feel that way. His trust of Malfoy had come slowly – he'd been inclined to believe him useless at first, until he'd seen some evidence of his abilities. But was it possible that his change of heart had been because he was attracted to Malfoy? Harry didn't have a definite answer to that.

"Just think about it," Robards told Harry. "You'll come to see the sense in what I'm saying."

Harry wasn't so sure of that, but he couldn't rule it out either. "Are you kicking Malfoy off the case?" he asked instead.

"No, nothing of the sort," Robards said quickly. "If he's guilty, that would just alert him to the fact that we're on to him."

"And if he's innocent, which he is," Harry snapped, "we'd just lose a valuable resource." He tried to sound more certain than he was.

"That is also true," Robards said in a diplomatic tone. "No, it's too early to do anything without solid proof. Just keep an eye on Malfoy, will you?"

Harry scowled. "I can do that. And I'll let you know if there's anything suspicious in his behaviour, but there won't be."

He wasn't sure, though. Malfoy was good at hiding things, Harry remembered. Suddenly, he wasn't sure at all.

\---

"Harry! _Harry!_ "

Harry turned. Ron and Hermione were beckoning to him from a Muggle souvenir shop.

He frowned and stepped into the shop. "Hello. What are the two of you doing here?"

"Hey mate," Ron said, rather weakly.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said.

They both looked grim. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, lowering his voice even though the Muggle shopkeeper was fast asleep and snoring.

"Well, er…" Ron said. "I assume you didn't read the paper today?"

"Not just any paper," Hermione cut in. "The _Prophet_. They're the only ones who could print such crap." She searched in her handbag for a copy of the morning edition and held it out for Harry.

Harry took it and unfolded so he could look at the front page. He had a sinking feeling he knew what had happened.

The article took more than half of the front page: _SAVAGE KILLER LOOSE IN LONDON_ said the large block letters, and underneath in a smaller font _ᴍɪɴɪꜱᴛʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴩɪʀᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴩ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀꜱ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʜ ᴍᴜᴛɪʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ_.

"How the hell did they find out?" Harry asked, browsing through the article.

"Is it all true?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied without looking up. The article talked of 'anonymous sources' within the Ministry – whoever they were, they seemed to know a lot. The only thing they didn't know was that the so-called 'killer creature' was a Nundu, but it wasn't as if that bit of information would make the news more reassuring.

"Listen, mate, you might… not want to go in to work today," Ron said.

"Are you kidding?" He had to talk with Robards to decide how they were going to handle this. At the very least he would need to talk to the victims' families, since they had never been told that the killings were part of a series of attacks. "This is my fault, I should have insisted with Robards. He should have talked to the press. We knew we wouldn't be able to keep it from the public forever."

"I'm afraid Robards might have had a point in trying to keep a lid on things," Hermione said. "I'm all for freedom of the press and keeping the public informed, but _this_ is just fear-mongering!" she exclaimed, tapping her fingers harshly against the headline. "People have already started panicking."

"Yeah," Ron said. "When I said don't go into work? I wasn't kidding. The Atrium is swarming with journalists and people yelling and– and– it's chaos in there!"

He was looking, now that Harry noticed it, rather wild-eyed. "Did you try to get in?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, it's a mess. There were so many people we could hardly move, and then they noticed my robes and they started badgering me with questions."

"Security is trying to get things under control," Hermione said. "Shacklebolt said that he'll give a speech on the radio at noon; that should help too."

"Yeah, but until things calm down, you best to stay out of sight," Ron said. "They even had to close down the Floo Network because too many people were coming in and it was turning into a stampede."

"Thanks for the heads-up." Harry groaned. The text at the bottom of the page informed him that there were more articles on the 'grisly murders' on pages two to fifteen. The _Prophet_ was really milking the story for all it was worth.

Harry turned the page and kept reading the continuation of the article on the front page. It didn't get any better, as the journalist alternated between berating the Ministry for its secrecy and conjuring images of monstrous, murderous creatures lurking behind every corner in London.

"I wonder if anyone from the office got in," Ron said, going to peer out of the shop's windows.

"They might if they arrived before the crowd started assembling," Hermione replied. "It's still pretty early, though, so I don't think many people did."

"I bet Kestrel got in," Ron said. "If anyone tried to block her way, she'd just curse them. I should've waited for Kestrel and followed her while she cleared the way…"

"I seriously hope she did nothing of the sort!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Or maybe, since we can't get in, this is a sign that we should take the morning off," Ron went on. "What about getting something to eat? We skipped breakfast to get here quickly after Hermione read the paper, and I'm famished."

"That's not a bad idea," Harry said, "but I can't take the whole morning off, I have too many things to do. What about Apparition, did they also…"

He trailed off, staring at the page he'd just turned. Between an editorial and an advertisement for the latest model of broomstick was another headline: _ᴀ ᴩᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ? ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴩᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴏɢᴀᴛᴇꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ꜱᴜꜱᴩᴇᴄᴛ_. Underneath, glancing warily at each other from their respective frames, were stock photos of him and Malfoy.

"Ah," Hermione said, glancing over Harry's shoulder. "You found that one. The articles in the inside pages get more and more outrageous. It would have been fine if they'd just printed that front page article since it's mostly factual, but this is garbage."

The photos were old. Harry's photo had been taken shortly after he got into the Auror training programme. He'd had a haircut only a few days before, he remembered, not that one could tell from the way his hair stuck out in every direction. Malfoy's photo was from back when he'd been tried after the war. He looked gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. As Harry was watching, photo-Malfoy cast photo-Harry a sullen look and turned aside.

Harry tore his eyes from the photo and scanned the article. "This makes no sense. They're saying that _Malfoy_ is an illegal Animagus and killed all those people?"

Hermione snorted. "Of course they're not actually _saying_ it, not in so many words. That would be defamation. But they can _imply_ it."

"' _…has been seen in the corridors of the Ministry multiple times in the past few weeks…_ '," Harry quoted from the article. "Of course he would, he works there! ' _…in the company of Auror Harry Potter, who has been investigating the tragic deaths…_ ' That's their story? Someone saw me and Malfoy going in and out of headquarters a couple of times, and suddenly he's a suspect I'm bringing in for questioning?"

He made a face and threw the newspaper aside. Hermione picked it up and started folding it again.

"Mate," Ron said, shaking his head. "You've said yourself that Robards has been wary of Malfoy, and the git doesn't have the best of reputations–"

"Robards doesn't think Malfoy is a murderer!" Harry exclaimed. "Nobody in their right mind would think so!"

Hermione hesitated, clearly on the verge of saying something. Harry's heart plummeted as he remembered what Malfoy had said about his personnel file – he'd been called _deranged_ in his personality assessments. Dangerous. What else had been written about him? And more importantly, what would the readers of the _Daily Prophet_ believe?

It was absurd to think that Malfoy had killed four people, or even that he'd sicced a Nundu on them. Harry had seen how Malfoy looked green around the gills at the crime scenes. He'd been on the verge of throwing up, only looking directly at the bodies when he had to – he'd been so relieved the other day when Harry had offered to examine the corpse's wounds by himself.

Nobody who knew Malfoy would believe a word of the article. Then again, most people only knew Malfoy as a former Death Eater. It would be only too easy for them to believe the worst about him.

"Relax, Harry," Hermione said, putting a placating hand on Harry's shoulder. "The truth will come out in the end."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Let's be honest, mate, Malfoy might not have killed anyone but it's not as if he doesn't deserve a bit of punishment for being a git."

"He does _not_ deserve to be shamed in the press!" Harry yelled.

The Muggle shopkeeper, who'd been snoring behind the counter, woke up and fixed them with a gimlet-eyed stare. Hermione motioned for them to be quiet and dragged them behind a rack of humorous postcards.

"C'mon, Harry, it's no big deal," Ron said. "It'll blow over soon when the _Daily Prophet_ prints the next scandal story; Malfoy just needs to lay low for a while. If I were him, I'd just spend the day in bed– What is it?"

Harry had frozen. "Merlin," he muttered. "Malfoy…"

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry was already rushing out of the store. "He doesn't read the _Prophet_!" he called over his shoulder. "He'll have no idea about all of this."

It had started to drizzle. Harry's boots skittered on the cobbles as he took off at a near-run. He didn't bother to pull up the hood of his cloak, so after a few feet his hair was already plastered to his forehead and his glasses were covered by a myriad droplets.

The Ministry was just behind the corner. Harry heard the noise as he approached, growing louder and louder. As he turned into the street that housed the entrance to the Ministry, he could see that the way was completely blocked by a throng of people. Two security trolls and a few harried clerks were trying to keep the crowd at bay.

Harry skidded to a halt on the pavement.

"Please," a young witch was saying, "we understand your concerns, but you're interfering with Ministry work… Sir, please, there's no need to raise your voice… This is a Muggle residential street, you are in violation of the Statute of Secrecy…!"

Harry didn't stop to hear the crowd's answers. He turned a corner, and then another one, until he was in an out-of-the-way alley. He wiped his glasses with the back of his arm, which only managed to make his vision more blurry, and looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone in sight.

Harry Disapparated.

He'd expected to bounce back, a sign that the Ministry had placed wards to stop people from Apparating in and out, but that wasn't the case. Harry found himself at the far end of the Atrium, which had been cordoned off.

A bored-looking intern was wandering around, but he jumped up when he saw Harry. "You can't come in," he said, waving his arms. "Didn't you read the paper? We're having sort of a problem, so please go away. Emergency personnel only."

"This is an emergency," Harry said, storming past him.

"Say, aren't you Harry Potter?" the boy said. His jaw dropped open. "There's people here saying they want to talk to you…"

There was a crack and Hermione and Ron Apparated a few feet away.

"What's the plan?" Hermione asked, shaking a cascade of raindrops from her hair.

Harry flashed her a quick smile. "I haven't got the faintest. Find Malfoy before he gets lynched by this mob?"

There were a couple hundred people in the Atrium, standing in a wide semi-circle around the fountain and chanting "We want the truth! We want the truth!

They seemed peaceful, but Harry knew that in this kind of situation it would take only one provocation to cause a riot.

"I doubt the git is in any real danger," Ron said.

Just then, a commotion erupted across the Atrium, where the Floo Network fireplaces were located. Harry swore and set off at a brisk pace, shouldering past the intern who was trying to block his way. He could just barely make out a blond head amid the crowd. It seemed that Malfoy was trying to argue something. Harry could only hope that Malfoy didn't say anything that provoked people further. Knowing his temper, that wasn't bloody likely.

Even though Harry had refrained from running to avoid attract attention, it didn't take long for people to recognise him. "Harry Potter!" someone yelled, and soon everyone around him was taking up the cry.

"Harry Potter!" a middle-aged witch exclaimed, trying to grab his arm. "Is it true about the murders? Are we in danger?"

"Why hasn't the Ministry said anything?" yelled another man. "We want answers!"

"This is like You-Know-Who's return all over again," someone sobbed.

Harry bristled. "This is nothing like Voldemort's return!" he exclaimed, shaking off the people trying to grab him.

"These are isolated attacks," Hermione said quickly. She and Ron had hurried after Harry and now stood flanking him like bodyguards. "The Auror office is investigating, so if you all could go home and leave Auror Potter to his job…!"

There was a widespread muttering at her words, but they seemed to work. People were calming down. Two burly wizards who had tried to get in Harry's face started to discuss whether to follow Hermione's suggestion and leave.

Until, in the middle of the crowd, someone yelled out, "There's no need to investigate anything! We know who did the murders!"

Harry turned around and saw a red-faced man pointing to where Malfoy was standing in the middle of the Atrium.

"There's your killer. Arrest him!"

His words were followed by a loud cheer from the crowd.

"Yeah!" someone yelled, "Arrest the killer!"

A witch was waving around a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and pointing at the photo of Malfoy.

Harry swore. "He's not–!" he tried to say, but the crowd had already turned towards Malfoy and wasn't paying attention to him any longer.

"This is daft," Ron muttered, trying to push through. They were being squeezed on all sides by the crowd. "How are you even going to arrest him if they're not letting you pass?"

"I'm not going to… Oh, curse this," Harry spat as he was pushed further away from Malfoy.

For a moment the crowd in front of him shifted, and Harry had a glimpse of Malfoy's face as he yelled something. The words were lost in the noise from the other people's shouts. Harry sword again. Malfoy's eyes were wide and he looked very pale.

Hermione clucked. "This is ridiculous," she snapped, as she was elbowed aside. "You two, stay behind me!"

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked with some apprehension, but he let Hermione squeeze herself between him and Harry.

Hermione drew her wand, keeping it low so as not to attract notice, and whispered something. There were a few muttered exclamations from the people in front, and Harry braced himself, but the people around had stopped shoving and pushing.

Harry shot Hermione a questioning look. "What just happened?"

"Arm-Bind Curse," she replied under her breath. "Hurry up! I've cast it on too many people so it won't last longer than a minute or two.

Harry could have kissed her. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, already rushing forward.

There were a few startled yelps around him as he elbowed people aside to get through, but most of the crowd just seemed puzzled by what had happened. Behind, Harry heard Hermione raise her voice and call for attention.

Malfoy had backed himself into a corner, between a wall and the bust of a long-ago Minister who was looking on the scene with contempt. "Insolence," it was saying, "shame on all of you dogs. Nothing of the sort ever happened in my time!"

"Potter," Malfoy drawled, noticing Harry trying to get through the crowd. "Are you here to arrest me?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed.

Despite Malfoy's calm tone, his eyes were very wide, with just a sliver of silver showing around the pupils. His hands were clenched into fists at his side.

Harry stumbled past the last few people and turned around, spreading an arm in front of Malfoy. "Back off, everyone!" From the corner of his eye he could see Malfoy's hand reaching for his pocket. "Don't you dare draw your wand," he muttered. If Malfoy did, there was no telling how the crowd would react.

"Go on and arrest him!" someone exclaimed.

The words were met with a loud cheer.

"Arrest him!" some people started to chant.

Malfoy pressed his shoulders against the wall.

"Auror Potter!" exclaimed a wizard in magenta robes, struggling to push to the front. "I'm from the _Daily Prophet_! What have you got to say about the situation?"

"You complete arsehole!" Harry yelled. "How could you print such a rubbish article?!"

The level of noise rose and the journalist scrambled for his notebook. "Are you denying that there were any murders?"

"I'm saying," Harry replied, loud enough to be heard above the din, "that _Malfoy_ didn't kill anyone!"

The journalist was scribbling madly. "Then why is he a person of interest in the case?"

"I told you," Malfoy said, in a much weaker version of his usual haughty tone. "I'm not – I work here!"

This caused a stir all around. Harry caught the words _Death Eater_ repeated by several people.

"Rotten to the core, all of them!" an old man cried.

"It's true!" Harry exclaimed, shifting so he was between Malfoy and the crowd. "You wanted the truth? This is it! The four victims that we found in the last month weren't killed by a person, they were attacked by a creature that's on the loose in London."

A hush fell on the crowd. The journalist from the _Prophet_ seemed about to faint from happiness and his quill started flying on the page all by itself.

"Are we all in danger then?" he asked with a gleeful smile.

Harry wanted to deny it, but he couldn't promise these people that they'd be safe. "The Auror Department is doing its best to find the creature. Together with Draco Malfoy, _who works for the Beast Division_ ," he added in a pointed tone.

There were a few more mutters. Harry glanced behind and saw that Malfoy was very pale and very still.

"So you're saying that he has no connections to the crimes, Harry?" the reported asked, jabbing his quill in Malfoy's direction. A few specks of ink flew off the tip. Malfoy flinched.

"No connection whatsoever," Harry snapped.

He could see that the crowd had more questions but it was time for them to get the hell out of there. Several feet away to his left, one of the lifts opened as a high-ranking official arrived in the Atrium. People's heads turned around to stare as a group of security guards huddled around the official to escort her out.

"Let's go," Harry muttered.

Malfoy seemed frozen in place, so Harry grabbed him by the wrist and half-dragged, half-pushed him towards the lifts.

"Step aside, please, step aside!" Harry called, taking advantage of their forward momentum. People were moving out of the way, but soon they'd start questioning what Harry had said all over again. "We've got work to do, please move!"

The last part was addressed half to the crowd and half to Malfoy. He was incredibly tense under Harry's grip, and his pulse was beating rabbit-fast.

"Come on," Harry murmured, leaning back and giving his wrist a squeeze.

The security guards around the lifts had noticed Harry and were motioning for him to hurry up. Harry and Malfoy stumbled past their lines and into a waiting lift.

Harry pressed the button to Level Two. He turned around as the doors of the lift closed, but Hermione and Ron were nowhere in sight. Harry hoped they had seen him leave and would have the sense to get away too.

He was still holding Malfoy's wrist. As soon as the lift started moving, Malfoy jerked his hand away and stumbled against the back of the lift.

Malfoy pressed one hand to his chest and drew several shaky breaths. His hair was all in disarray, and stray locks fell over his face. He usually wore it slicked back, so Harry hadn't even noticed that his hair was so long.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine!" Malfoy snapped, jerking aside when Harry tried to step closer.

Harry snorted and leaned back against the opposite side of the lift. "You're welcome," he muttered.

"What in Merlin's name did you think you were doing?!" Malfoy snarled. His breath was coming fast and there were two red splotches of colour on his cheekbones.

"Er, saving you from being lynched for something you didn't do? Since I figured you wouldn't have read the _Prophet_ this morning, so you didn't know to stay away."

Malfoy had the good grace to look abashed. "Even so," he muttered. "You're such a moron, Potter!"

"What did you want me to do?" Harry snapped. "Stand by and do nothing?"

"Always with your stupid Gryffindor pig-headedness!" Malfoy's eyes were glaring daggers now. "There were other ways to go about it. You could have said you were arresting me and they would have let us go without any fuss."

Harry hadn't even thought about it. "That's a stupid idea," he said, vehemently, to cover his confusion. "I'm not going to encourage this rumour about you killing people, it's ridiculous."

"Glad you think so," said Malfoy. He pursed his lips. "That makes one. Everyone else seemed pretty convinced of my guilt."

"Yeah, well, they're idiots," Harry snapped. "If they weren't, they wouldn't be reading the _Daily Prophet_ in the first place.

Malfoy let out a mirthless laughter. "This is so messed up."

It occurred to Harry that, for the first time since their kiss, he was behind closed doors and alone with Malfoy. Suddenly he was very aware of the awkward tension between the two of them. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Malfoy until both of them stopped shaking.

He reached out for him. "Malfoy…"

Before he could say anything, the lift dinged and the doors slid open.

Harry dropped his hand and, after one last look at Malfoy, stepped out. Malfoy followed.

Auror headquarters were emptier than usual that morning, but a good number of Harry's colleagues had managed to get in. The whole office was in chaos and a fleet of paper planes were zooming overhead carrying messages to and from the other departments.

"Potter, you made it!" Kestrel barked as he walked past her cubicle.

"'Morning," Harry said. "Is Robards around?"

She shook her head. "He's in a meeting with the Minister. Blimey," she added, narrowing her eyes at Malfoy, "didn't think I'd be seeing him around today, not with the mess we're having."

Malfoy stuck his nose in the air and marched on towards his cubicle.

"Don't mind him." Harry made as if to move on, then changed his mind. "Actually, you know what?" he said, loud enough for everyone around to hear. "Stop talking smack behind Malfoy's back. He had nothing to do with the article in the _Prophet_."

Kestrel raised one bushy eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd be sticking up for Malfoy of all people."

"I heard Robards say that Malfoy leaked the story to the press," said Mountjoy, joining the conversation from the cubicle opposite. "He was talking about it as he went by earlier."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Bollocks! Why the hell would Malfoy tell the _Prophet_ to print a story in which he's a murderer?"

He could see his colleagues hesitating. "If you put it that way…" Mountjoy said.

"Doesn't take away from the fact that he's a little shit," Kestrel said, reaching for her pouch of tobacco.

"He's working with me!" Harry exclaimed. " _With this office._ The least you could do is stop acting like dicks around him!"

Harry became aware that he was the subject of several stares, ranging from the curious to the amused to the annoyed. He didn't particularly care. He had a lot of respect for his colleagues, but he couldn't stand by and listen as they talked about Malfoy like he was a total stranger.

Maybe it was guilt from realising that Malfoy had been working there for two weeks and he'd barely exchanged a word with anyone that wasn't Harry. All the same, Harry had to get it off his chest.

Kestrel took a pinch of tobacco.

"Now listen here, Harry," Mountjoy began.

"No, Bob, he's right," Kestrel said. She fixed her gaze on Harry. "These two kids have been working on this case at every hour of the day, and some of the night too if I'm not mistaken," she added, and Harry fought the urge to rub the dark circles under his eyes. "Least we could do is give Malfoy junior some respect."

"Doesn't mean I like him," Mountjoy said.

"Doesn't mean you have to. Hey, Draco Malfoy!" she barked.

Malfoy, who was sitting at his cubicle with his head bent down, jumped on his chair and turned around.

"Pull yourself together," Kestrel said, "you're still in one piece. Have a sticky toffee." She produced a tin box from the recesses of her desk and rattled it around.

"Er," Malfoy said, looking rather wild-eyed at being once again the subject of attention. "Thanks. But I–"

"Have a toffee," Kestrel said again. "You look like you could use the sugar. You too, Potter!"

It sounded like an order. "Thanks, Kestrel." Harry took the tin box from her and carefully selected the two smallest pieces of toffee he could find. A hard task, since they were all the size of small bricks.

Then he walked over to Malfoy.

"Here you go," Harry said, popping his toffee into his mouth. Malfoy took the other toffee, careful not to touch Harry as he did so.

Harry plopped down on his chair. For a while they both chewed in silence, staring into nothing. Kestrel's toffee had a tendency to lock one's jaw.

"Why are you doing this?" Malfoy asked eventually.

"Well," Harry said around a mouthful of molasses, "Kestrel gets tetchy if you refuse her toffee. She doesn't offer it to just anyone, you know."

"No!" Malfoy snapped. He was trying to sound stern, but the effect was spoiled by the fact that he was still chewing toffee. "Why are you defending me? What's your angle?"

Harry rolled his eye. "I don't have an angle," he said. "I just thought the _Prophet_ 's article was a steaming pile of winged horse dung. Those bastards only care about how many copies they sell, they don't care that they're making more work for us. Urgh, what a mess!"

He tossed his glasses onto his desk and passed one hand over his face. It was still early morning but he felt so tired already. Once this case was wrapped up, he vowed, he was going to sleep for twenty hours straight.

Malfoy was staring at his map. "There's something else about the _Prophet_ 's article," he said. "So far, whoever has the Nundu had no idea of the current state of the investigation. For all they knew, the Aurors hadn't even linked the four deaths together."

"Maybe. He or she must know that we're looking into suspicious deaths."

"Yes, but now that they're on the front page of the newspapers? They might get nervous and do something rash."

Harry swore under his breath. "I hope you're wrong," he said. It made sense though. It made too much sense.

"Here you are!" Ron exclaimed, bursting through the door. "Man, it's madness down there."

"They're starting to clear the Atrium," Hermione said, walking in after Ron at a more sedate pace. "Shacklebolt showed up and made a speech and things are starting to calm down." She wrinkled her nose. "Harry, do you know that you've got something stuck between your teeth?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, hiding his mouth with one hand and trying to swallow.

"Is that Kestrel's toffee?" Ron asked, propping himself against Harry's desk. "I wish I had some, she never gives me any!"

"Good," Hermione replied, stern. "That stuff is bad for your teeth."

"It looks delicious though. How come you get toffee? What's the occasion?"

Harry would have answered, but his teeth were locked together by the toffee.

Ron and Hermione turned to look at Malfoy.

"I'll… go and make some tea," Malfoy said, jumping to his feet. He ducked past Hermione and disappeared behind the corner.

Hermione frowned at his retreating back.

"Listen, Harry," she said, sitting down in Ron's empty chair. She lowered her voice. "Please don't take this the wrong way but I have to ask… Are you absolutely sure that Malfoy has nothing to do with the Nundu?"

"Not you too!" Harry exclaimed. He sucked the last of the toffee from his teeth and drew a long breath. "He's not a suspect, and I'm getting tired of people asking."

"All right, all right," Ron said in a placating tone. He glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. "We're just asking because… you know… this is _Malfoy_ we're talking about!"

"I've noticed," Harry replied. "I've been working with him for some time now, in case you missed it!"

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"Harry, did something happen with Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"No!" Harry replied at once. "Nothing! What do you think happened?"

"Oh," Hermione replied, biting her lip. "Never mind. So, listen, about the accusations in the _Daily Prophet_. I ran into someone from my department, and word is that Robards is going around saying that Malfoy knows too much."

"Like he knows things about the case that he shouldn't," Ron butted in.

"Because he's been doing _research_ on it," Harry said, motioning towards Malfoy's cubicle. "That's not a crime, especially when it's his _job_!"

Hermione leaned past him to have a look, then got up and bent over a stack of books. Harry heard her draw her breath.

"These titles… Are they all from the Ministry's collection? I didn't even know there was a copy of Colbert's _Voyages Dangereux_ in England." Her hands hovered above the spines.

"All right, so he read a lot of books," Ron scoffed. "But how come Malfoy was able to predict when the next attack would take place? Robards was saying it was uncanny–"

Harry snorted. "I can't fucking believe this," he muttered. He started rummaging through the mess on his desk, tossing scraps of parchment aside. "Where's that bloody report – here it is – just look at this!" he exclaimed, slamming it on the desk. "I wrote it down for Robards since he's always insisting on detailed reports. Good to know he's reading them," he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Hermione picked up the roll of parchment and started going through it. "Malfoy figured it out based on the Nundu's feeding cycle?" she asked, squinting at Harry's handwriting. "Do you have his original calculations too?"

"Uh, er, they're around somewhere," Harry poked around his desk and retrieved several rolls of parchment. "Here."

"This is…" Hermione murmured as she went through the formulae. She sounded impressed despite herself. "Are you saying Malfoy did this on his own?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I have no idea what most of the numbers and symbols even mean, but his guess was pretty accurate."

Hermione seemed about to ask something else, but she shut up as Malfoy returned with the tea. He was carrying multiple mugs on a small tray, as well as a bowl of sugar. He had his head bowed, so his eyes were half-hidden by his bangs.

Malfoy cleared his throat. He stopped next to Harry's chair and held out the tray as far as he could. A few droplets splashed off the rim of the mugs. "I made tea."

Hermione was the first to react. "Thank you," she said with forced brightness. "That's, er, nice!"

Ron scowled. "I don't–" he began. Hermione trod on his foot. "Ow. Yeah, okay, thanks Malfoy," he said, shooting Hermione a dirty look.

Malfoy hesitated for a moment before setting the tray down on a corner of Harry's desk. "These two don't have any sugar," he said, pointing. "Since I didn't know if you take any. Yours is this one, Potter."

As for himself, he picked up his usual mug and hid his face behind it, taking a large gulp. He immediately started coughing. The tea did seem scalding hot.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking his mug, the one with the very ugly dog.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, but reached for a mug and the sugar. "Malfoy," she said as she stirred the sugar, still in that horribly cheery tone, "do you have any idea when the next attack will take place?"

Malfoy blinked. "Really, Granger?" he drawled. "You accuse me of leaking classified information and then you turn around and ask me questions on a top secret case?"

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Never mind," Hermione said, cutting off the argument before it started. "He's not wrong."

"Come on, Malfoy," Harry said, "it's not _leaking informations_. Ron works two desks away and Hermione is from Magical Law Enforcement."

Malfoy took a sip of tea. "Always ready to make an exception for friends," he muttered.

"So?" Harry insisted. "Do you know when the Nundu's going to attack again?"

"If you must know," Malfoy said, sitting down at his desk, "I haven't done the arithmancy yet." He stretched his long legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. "I was waiting for the results of a few more tests from Necro." He nodded towards an open envelope on his desk. "They arrived this morning so I'll get on it now."

"All right," Harry said.

Malfoy stared down at the mug in his hands, tracing a finger absently around the rim. "Unless you think I'll leak this to the press, too," he added in a sullen tone.

Harry snorted. " _Hilarious_."

Hermione set down her empty mug on the tray. "I'll leave you two to it, then, I have to get to work," she said. "Good luck."

Harry didn't know if she was talking to him or Malfoy. Both of them could have used some luck at the moment.

After she'd gone, with Malfoy and Ron busy at their desks, Harry raised his almost-forgotten mug to his lips. The tea was strong and sweet, just the way he liked it.

\---

Harry's reflection glared at him from the cracked mirror above the sink. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, which sadly wasn't far from the truth. In an attempt to wake himself up, he splashed his face with cold water, but it only served to make him shiver and to get the collar of his shirt wet.

With a sigh, Harry grabbed a paper towel and dried himself off. It was late in the evening and most of his colleagues had left already, but he couldn't bring himself to go home.

Malfoy had said that the Nundu would strike soon, maybe even tomorrow or the day after. Harry didn't understand most of the finer details that went into calculating it – the number at the bottom was the only thing he cared about – but Malfoy seemed pretty confident about it. Given how well he'd guessed the time of the last attack, Harry saw no reason to doubt him now.

Ron had gone home hours ago, promising that on the morning he would help put together a team so they could organise patrols in the areas where the Nundu was most likely to attack. Harry felt as if they were on the verge of making a breakthrough, if only he could just–

"What about Potter?"

Harry paused with his hand on the door. That had been Robards' voice in the corridor.

"He's not at his desk," replied Mountjoy. "Must've gone home already."

"You mean finally," Robards replied with a sigh. Harry could just imagine him shaking his head with that despairing expression of his. "Another while and Malfoy would have gone home first."

"No chance of that," Mountjoy was saying. "He always stays behind after everyone else has gone."

"That's rather suspicious, too, isn't it?" Robards replied.

There was a pause. He should have pushed open the door and revealed himself, but there was something about the conversation that was striking him as odd.

Then Mountjoy spoke again. "Sir, are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am!"

"It's only that Potter seems so sure…"

Harry leaned forward, pressing the palms of both hands against the door, trying to hear better. They were speaking more quietly now.

"Potter can't see the big picture," Robards said. "He's an idealist. For him, everything is black or white. Malfoy isn't a murderer, so he should go free. Potter has such a simplistic view of the world."

Harry almost burst out of the bathroom then to give Robards a piece of his mind, but he held out. His heart was thumping against his ribcage. He had a very bad feeling about this.

He missed Mountjoy's reply, but Robards' answer was curt. "We can't have another episode like this morning's. The Ministry – the Aurors – the public must see that we're doing something."

"Yes, sir," Mountjoy said, and then something else that Harry didn't catch.

"Go down to the holding cells and get someone to help you," Robards replied. "Just in case he tries to do something stupid."

"I won't need backup, he's a wimp."

"All the same," Robards insisted. "I have to go, send me a note after you've locked him up so I can let the press know."

There was the sound of retreating footsteps.

Harry exhaled and leaned his forehead against the door. He couldn't believe it. Malfoy was the only other person on the case, and he was about to be arrested. Harry couldn't just let it happen; he had to do something, though he had no idea what. Confronting Robards about it wouldn't change anything, as he had already made up his mind about arresting Malfoy. Then what?

The corridor was silent. Harry opened the door, at first just a fraction, then all the way after making sure that there was nobody in sight. He rushed across the corridor towards the office.

Almost everyone else had gone home but Malfoy was still in his cubicle, staring at his map of the city.

"We know that it came in on a ship, but have you thought that maybe–" Malfoy began, pausing when he saw Harry's face. "What is it?"

Harry leaned forward so his mouth was level with Malfoy's ear, and caught Malfoy's shoulder to keep him still when he tried to flinch away. "Robards wants to arrest you," Harry whispered.

At that, Malfoy froze. "If this is a joke, Potter…"

"It's not a joke," Harry replied, curt. "He's sending Mountjoy and some guards over as we speak."

He watched as Malfoy collapsed on himself.

"That's it, then," Malfoy said in a hollow voice. "I'm done for."

"You're _not_ ," Harry snapped. He checked himself to keep from raising his voice and attracting his colleagues' attention. "This is what we're doing, we're going to talk to Shacklebolt. If I can explain–"

There was a burst of mirthless laughter from Malfoy. "It must be nice to be friends with everyone. I appreciate your belated efforts but they won't change a thing."

"Robards can't arrest you if Shacklebolt forbids him!"

"Wrong," Malfoy drawled. "The Minister for Magic doesn't have the authority to countermand an arrest ordered by the Head of the Auror Office." He smirked, though it felt strained. "Don't you know _anything_ about how magical law works?"

"He can't just arrest you," Harry replied, shaking his head with vehemence. "There's no proof."

"And yet, he's doing just that." Malfoy took his head in his hands. "Merlin, I'm not going to last a week in Azkaban."

Most of the prisoners, Harry remembered, were Death Eaters. Some of them had been put there by Malfoy's testimony, and all of them thought the Malfoys were traitors.

"You're not going to Azkaban."

" _How_? You can't even convince Robards that I've got nothing to do with the Nundu, and he knows this case! How are you going to persuade the Wizengamot?"

Harry paused. Once, he might have found it amusing that Malfoy was so reviled both in the Ministry and in Azkaban. Now it didn't seem funny at all.

"Listen, Potter," Malfoy said quickly. "Before I go, let me tell you what I think about the Nundu–"

"Fuck this," Harry muttered. It took him all of two seconds to make his decision. He crouched on the floor next to his desk and tapped the bottom-most drawer with his wand. It slid open with a noisy creak. Harry's heart jumped at the noise and he hoped nobody was paying them any attention.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked.

"I'm getting you out of here," Harry replied. At the bottom of the drawer was Harry's old invisibility cloak. "If someone sees you trying to leave the Ministry now, you'll be arrested, so let's make sure you're not seen."

Checking that nobody was looking, Harry tossed the cloak over one shoulder.

Malfoy stared. "Is it – is this the invisibility cloak?"

Harry held out his other arm towards him. "Come on." They didn't have long.

Malfoy took a tentative step forward. Harry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. He'd never used the cloak with someone else since he was a teen. He hoped it would be large enough.

Harry pressed himself as close to Malfoy as he could and flung the cloak over both of them. Malfoy gasped as they both vanished from sight.

"Shut up!" Harry hissed. He tugged the cloak over their heads and looked down to check that there was nothing visible.

"Wait, wait," Malfoy said, wriggling around. He held out his wand and tapped the map of the city, which fell down and folded itself neatly. Malfoy reached for it and the map too vanished under the cloak.

Harry could feel Malfoy's heartbeat from where their chests were pressed together. "Are you done? Come on!" Harry said, nudging Malfoy towards the door.

It was a good thing that Harry's arm was wrapped around Malfoy's waist, since Malfoy might have stumbled otherwise. The cloak hadn't been made for two grown men and they had to remain hunched down to keep their ankles from showing. It wouldn't have been good if someone saw two pairs of feet wandering around on their own.

They wove a winding path across the floor, giving a wide berth to the few cubicles still occupied to avoid bumping into anyone.

With the office half empty, they had no difficulty in making it out of the door. They were halfway across the corridor when one of the lifts dinged.

Malfoy's heartbeat sped up and Harry heard a distinct gasp. "Hush!" he hissed.

Mountjoy stepped into the corridor, followed by two stony-faced guards. Harry's eyes darted around. There was nowhere to go but back inside the office, and they wouldn't be able to reach it fast enough. Mountjoy strode forward.

Harry put both arms around Malfoy and pushed him against the wall. They collided with a soft thud that seemed deafening to Harry but was covered by the noise of the guards' boots on the floor.

As the three men got closer to where Harry and Malfoy were standing, Harry pressed himself against Malfoy and the wall. The corridor was not that wide and it would take just an accidental brush for them to be discovered.

Malfoy had gone limp. Harry hoped he'd have the sense to stay still and quiet. Sneaking Malfoy out was one thing, but Harry didn't even want to think about hexing his colleagues because of him.

Harry's eyes darted around to follow the three men down the corridor. Malfoy's hair brushed against his cheek as he craned his head to get a better look. For a moment Mountjoy stared right where they were standing, and Harry could feel Malfoy's heart jump in his throat, but then Mountjoy's eyes moved past with indifference.

As soon as Mountjoy and the others crossed the threshold of the office, Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist and urged him on. They didn't have long until Mountjoy discovered Malfoy was gone and started searching for him.

The lift was still waiting at their floor. Harry and Malfoy hurried inside and Harry hit the button for the Atrium.

The ride up seemed to last forever. Malfoy kept flinching as they passed each level, but the lift never stopped and nobody came in. Harry kept one arm around Malfoy. He wasn't sure if that was making Malfoy more or less nervous.

As soon as they reached the Atrium, Harry pushed Malfoy out before they could be trapped by a group of people entering the lift. They shuffled out of the way and into a corner from where Harry could observe the situation.

At least down in the Atrium there were still enough people milling about that Harry and Malfoy could exchange a few whispered words without attracting attention.

"We can't go through the Floo Network," Harry murmured, half to himself. "They've put a bunch of extra security." Most of the fireplaces had been cordoned off and a few Aurors in plain robes were standing around, keeping a sharp eye on everyone who came in or out. No doubt it was a leftover from that morning's unrest.

"I'll just Disapparate, then," Malfoy said. He made as if to step away from under the cloak but Harry stopped him.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Home," Malfoy replied. "The Manor."

"You can't! It's the first place they're going to search."

"I _know_. I won't stay long."

"It's too dangerous to go at all," Harry shot back. "The same goes for the homes of every friend that's mentioned in your personnel file. Mountjoy will check each one of them."

"That won't take him long," Malfoy muttered.

"If you want to stay out of prison, you need to keep away until your name is cleared."

"Easier said than done. What am I supposed to do, huh? I can't even take a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the night, I doubt I've got ten galleons in my pocket, and I can hardly stop by Gringotts now…"

"Come to my place," Harry said. "Nobody will look for you there."

He could feel Malfoy's eyes on him. There was silence.

"I don't need your pity," Malfoy said, stiffly.

"It's not pity," Harry snapped. "Consider it a trade off. I need help catching the Nundu and you won't be of any use to me behind bars."

"It still doesn't seem like a good idea," Malfoy replied. It didn't seem a good idea to Harry either, but he was already sticking his neck out to help Malfoy evade arrest. He might as well go all the way. "How do I know it's not a trick?" Malfoy asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "If I wanted you to be caught, I'd just have let Mountjoy do his job. Come on, we don't have much time."

"All right then," Malfoy replied, slowly.

Just then, the doors to one of the lifts opened and Mountjoy rushed out, barking orders.

Harry looked around. It seemed safe enough to Disapparate from their spot. "Hold on."

Malfoy didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed Harry's arm in a white-knuckled grip. Harry's hold around him tightened.

There was a loud crack when they Disapparated, and for a split second Harry could see Mountjoy looking straight in their direction, a small crease between his eyebrows. But Harry and Malfoy were still invisible and nobody saw them as they vanished from the Ministry.

They Apparated at one end of a dead-end lane, which Harry liked because most of the street lamps were busted.

Harry disentangled his arm from Malfoy's and shrugged off the cloak. When Malfoy made as if to do the same, Harry shook his head.

"You should stay under the cloak until we're inside," he said, adjusting the cloak so it covered Malfoy fully. He stared at the place where he assumed Malfoy's head was. "The old man living across the street is awfully nosy, it's best if nobody sees you come in."

"All right," came Malfoy's disembodied voice.

Harry led the way towards a residential area. They walked in silence save for the sound of their feet on the pavement.

With each passing step, Harry grew more nervous. There was nothing to stop Malfoy from Disapparating if he wanted to; he could take the cloak and run. If he did, Harry would have nobody to blame but himself. His ears strained to hear the sound of Malfoy's shoes.

They turned into a row of terraced houses. Harry's was the one with the blue door and the saddest-looking garden at the front.

Harry searched his pockets for his key. As he unlocked the door, he realised with a pang that he couldn't hear anything from Malfoy. He pushed open the door and took a step inside, holding the door open.

"Malfoy?" he whispered, glancing around. The night seemed completely silent.

He'd gone, Harry thought. He was going to get himself caught before morning, because he was an idiot, and so was Harry who had let him leave.

Something brushed past him, and Harry jumped. "You were standing in the way," Malfoy muttered from the middle of Harry's entryway.

Harry breathed out and slammed the door shut.

The house had electricity, but Harry didn't use it often because in conjunction with magic it tended to start small fires. Instead, he flicked his wand and lit a couple of lamps. Another flick drew the curtains close across all the windows.

Malfoy took off the cloak and ran his fingers through his hair to slick it back.

"Nice cloak, Potter," he said, holding the fabric up to the light. "I'd heard about it but I didn't expect it to be quite like this."

Harry snatched it back. "It was my dad's."

Malfoy was silent at that, staring down at the worn carpet on the floor.

It was so strange to have him in the house. Harry was starting to realise that Malfoy would have to stay there until they cleared his name. Their best chance of doing so would be to catch the Nundu, a task which was going to be complicated by the fact that Malfoy's movements were now severely restricted if he wanted to avoid being arrested.

Harry didn't want to think about all that, though. It was late and he'd had a very long day.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, wandering into the kitchen. He tossed the cloak on the back of a chair and opened the fridge, a Muggle model that had been magically converted. As was often the case, the fridge was almost completely empty. "I've got, er, a bottle of Butterbeer." Just one, looking at him sadly in a corner. "Or I can make tea."

"I'm fine," Malfoy replied from the other room.

Harry opened the bottle and took a swig. Too late for ordering take out, and he wasn't really hungry anyway.

When he wandered into the living room, he found Malfoy studying the prints hanging on the walls. They were old floral prints with no particular artistic value, which had already been there when Harry had bought the place. He spent so little time at home that he'd never bothered to replace them with something nicer.

Malfoy, of course, was sneering. "You have quite a talent for interior decorating."

"Thanks," Harry deadpanned. "You can have the sofa, if it's not too ugly for your tastes. I've got some blankets upstairs."

Malfoy didn't even bother to say thank you. He glanced around Harry's living room, fidgeting. "I should get a message to my mother."

Harry's eyes fell on his rather small fireplace. "Don't even think about it," he said. "By now, Robards will be monitoring the Floo Network."

"Then I'm going to send an owl," Malfoy said.

"I don't have an owl," Harry replied. "But even if I did, I wouldn't let you. Don't you get it? Your mother's mail will be under surveillance too!"

"You're the one who doesn't understand!" Malfoy snapped. "I can't just disappear on her without a word. She'd–"

He halted, almost choking on the words. Harry saw his throat work soundlessly.

"It's too dangerous," Harry said. "I get that she'll be worried but it's only for a short while–"

"Don't talk about my mother!" Malfoy spat out. He pointed an accusatory finger at Harry. "Just because you read my file, it doesn't mean you know anything about me."

"I didn't even read your file!" Harry replied. Malfoy snorted. "It's true!" Harry exclaimed. "Hermione did. So whatever you're talking about, I have no idea what it is and I don't care!"

"I wish I never got this job," Malfoy snarled.

"I wish you hadn't!" Harry yelled back. "You're impossible to work with!"

"Me?! You're one to talk, you insufferable–"

Their mouths crashed together as Harry swallowed the rest of Malfoy's words. Harry licked into Malfoy's mouth. He pushed him backwards, and Malfoy stumbled until his back was pressed against the wall.

Malfoy was trembling in Harry's arms, either from rage or from some other suppressed emotion. His hands fisted in the front of Harry's shirt and pulled him even closer, until they were pressed together from knee to chest.

Harry tangled one hand in Malfoy's hair. It felt silky soft under his fingers. When he tugged on a lock, Malfoy moaned against him and tilted back his head. His teeth scraped against Harry's lower lip and Harry tasted blood.

If he thought about it, Harry had no idea how it had come to this, to the two of them desperately making out in his dimly-lit living room. Harry didn't want to think about it, though, he didn't want to think at all.

Malfoy was shaking even harder now and his breath was coming in little uneven gasps. Harry pushed one knee between his parted legs, pinning him against the wall. With a moan, Malfoy arched against Harry.

The inside of Malfoy's mouth was scalding hot. Harry kissed him deeper, until they were both dizzy and out of breath. His half-hard cock was starting to strain against the zipper of his jeans. Harry pushed his hips against Malfoy and Malfoy pushed back even as he tried to bite back a string of low moans.

It was incredible how sensitive Malfoy was to just a few touches. Harry wanted to try and see if he could get Malfoy make more of those delicious noises, he wanted to hear just how wrecked he could sound.

Harry's hand slid down to cup the front of Malfoy's trousers. Malfoy's eyes fluttered closed and he broke off the kiss, biting back a curse.

Looping his fingers through Malfoy's belt, Harry tugged him towards the door. "Come on," he murmured, his voice rough.

For once, Malfoy did what Harry said without a single complaint. They stumbled across the floor, bumping against the furniture and stopping every few seconds to trade biting kisses. When they reached the stairs, Harry had to grab the banister with one hand for support. The other was firmly on Malfoy's lower back, pressing him close. Malfoy's pupils were blown wide in the dim light.

They had to break apart to go up the stairs. Malfoy's hand slid under the bottom of Harry's sweater and t-shirt, pressing against his heated skin. Harry wished he could do the same but Malfoy's dress shirt was firmly tucked into his trousers.

He settled for pressing his mouth against the exposed skin of Malfoy's throat, feeling Malfoy's pulse point against his lips. When Harry scraped his teeth against the delicate skin there, Malfoy stumbled on a step and Harry had to catch his arm to stop him from falling down.

"Can't you wait five seconds more, Potter?" Malfoy asked. He'd probably meant it as a complaint, but between his heavy-lidded gaze and his breathy tone, it sounded too much like a tease.

Harry wrapped one arm around Malfoy's waist and made the remaining steps two at a time. His bedroom was the first door on the landing. He shouldered open the door and pulled Malfoy inside.

The room was pitch dark. Malfoy was doing his best to distract Harry by running his hands under his t-shirt, but Harry managed to light the lamp on his desk without setting anything on fire. Then Harry tossed his wand on the desk and pushed Malfoy onto the bed.

The bed hadn't been made: the covers were pushed back and the sheets were all rumpled. Malfoy propped himself up on one elbow to look around. "I thought your cubicle was messy," he drawled, "but this is something else."

Harry kicked off his boots. "Better than being a neat freak like you," he replied, advancing on the bed.

He put one knee on the mattress and bent towards Malfoy, capturing his mouth with a kiss. Malfoy spread his knees so Harry could scoot closer. Harry pushed Malfoy down on the mattress, pinning him beneath him. In the shifting lamplight, Harry could see Malfoy's face was flushed pink.

Malfoy's hands went to the hem of Harry's sweater. He tugged at it, getting it tangled around Harry's shoulders.

"Who's impatient now?" Harry muttered. With a curse he pulled off his sweater and dropped it on the floor. His glasses and t-shirt followed.

Malfoy was smirking up at him, giving him a long look that was definitely appreciative. Harry didn't much like to be stared at, though, so he stretched himself over Malfoy and kissed him hard. His knees were on either side of Malfoy's body and his hips pushed against Malfoy's. Harry could feel the other man's erection across the thin layers of fabric.

It was really maddening that Malfoy was still dressed. Harry's hands went to the collar of Malfoy's shirt. Blindly, without breaking the kiss, he started fumbling with the buttons. There were so many of them, and they were so small and fiddly. Harry did appreciate how the shirt looked on Malfoy, but it would look so much better _off_ him.

Malfoy swatted Harry's hands away. "Let me," he muttered against Harry's lips, "you'll rip off the buttons."

"Good," Harry replied. "There are too many of them." But he leaned back a little to watch as Malfoy's nimble fingers started undoing the buttons. As the shirt parted to expose Malfoy's collarbone, Harry slid his hand under the fabric. Malfoy's breath hitched when Harry's fingers brushed against a sensitive nipple.

Harry did it again, pushing the pad of his thumb against the nub of flesh, and Malfoy's hands faltered.

"S-stop distracting me," Malfoy stammered. He turned sideways and lowered his eyes as a flush started to spread to his chest.

Malfoy's shoulders were set in a tense line. Harry bit down on a distended tendon, teeth scraping on the skin of Malfoy's neck, and Malfoy cried out. Harry helped him out of his shirt and tossed it aside unceremoniously despite Malfoy's attempt at protest.

Harry stared at Malfoy's long body stretched under him on the bed. Malfoy was a sight – slim shoulders, trim waist, a scattering of hair on his chest so pale it was almost white. He never thought he could be so turned on by the sight.

Malfoy fisted his hands into the bedsheets. Harry's heart skipped a beat when he noticed the faded scar of the Dark Mark on his forearm. He'd almost forgotten about it. It was ugly, marring Malfoy's otherwise unblemished skin with an angry grey splotch.

Seeing where Harry was looking, Malfoy tried to turn aside to hide the mark from sight. Harry stilled him with one hand on his shoulder. He wasn't in the mood for another argument. "Just shut up," he said, pressing a quick kiss to Malfoy's mouth, which turned into a long kiss as Malfoy arched against him.

Harry's fingers ghosted down Malfoy's chest, tracing the line of hair that disappeared under Malfoy's belt. When Harry broke the kiss to start undoing the belt, Malfoy's stomach tensed.

Harry glanced at him. "Should I stop?"

Malfoy just shook his head, breathless. His eyes were closed tight.

Harry opened the buttons on Malfoy's trousers, shivering as his knuckles brushed against Malfoy's erection. That was nothing compared to Malfoy, who bit down on his lower lip to stifle a moan and threw one arm over his face. Harry pushed Malfoy's trousers down his hips.

The front of Malfoy's briefs was already stained dark with precome. Harry slid one hand inside the briefs and wrapped his fingers around Malfoy's erection. Malfoy's dick felt heavy and silky in his hand. Harry stroked it, at first tentatively, then moving his hand faster as Malfoy's breath hitched in his throat.

With his free hand, Harry grabbed the arm that Malfoy had thrown over his face and forced it aside, pinning it against the mattress. Malfoy's eyes opened just a fraction and Malfoy stared at Harry through his eyelashes. He was panting hard, chest rising and falling with every breath.

Harry leaned down to kiss him again, pressing his bare chest against Malfoy's as his hand kept stroking Malfoy's erection. The sensation of skin on skin went straight to Harry's dick. Harry could feel his own erection pressing insistently against the front of his jeans. He ground his hips against Malfoy's thigh, groaning low in his throat at the contact.

The need to touch himself was strong, but that was nothing compared to what Malfoy was going through. Malfoy's eyes were unfocused, his mouth slightly parted as he thrust his hips against Harry's touch. Harry's fingers were slick with precome. He slid his hand lower to cup Malfoy's balls, teasing him by scraping his nails lightly over the sensitive skin. Malfoy's back arched off the bed.

Pausing was the last thing Harry wanted, but his dick was seriously going to kill him. He took a long breath and sat back. Malfoy's eyes blinked open at the loss of contact. "Potter!" he whined, thrusting his hips uselessly into the air.

"Just," Harry panted, fumbling for his zipper with clumsy fingers, "just hold on…"

He pushed his jeans and underwear down his hips with one single gesture. At least Malfoy made himself useful by kicking off his shoes and wriggling around to remove his trousers. Harry stroked himself roughly, bucking into his own hand. It would have taken him only a few more touches to come, but he didn't want to, not yet.

Harry stretched next to Malfoy, wrapping one arm around his waist to hold him close. There was nothing between them but naked skin. Harry's hands slid down the curve of Malfoy's pert arse, pulling Malfoy flush with him.

Malfoy pressed his face against Harry's shoulder to muffle a low moan. His breath was hot and wet against Harry's skin and sent shivers down his spine. It had been too long since Harry had anyone else in bed with him.

Harry's eyes travelled downwards, to where their dicks were trapped together between their stomachs. Malfoy's hips stuttered against Harry's.

"Please," Malfoy moaned, almost inaudibly against Harry's shoulder.

"Malfoy," Harry murmured, his voice almost breaking on the word. He wrapped one hand around both of their dicks, smearing a large drop of precome with his thumb.

He wanted to keep a slow rhythm, to make it last as long as he could, but it was hard not to come at once with Malfoy thrusting into his hand and moaning obscenities against his heated skin.

"Malfoy," Harry repeated, hand jerking between the two of them. "Malfoy, look at me…"

Malfoy raised his head just barely and his eyes met Harry's. His hair, dark with sweat, was falling over his face, almost hiding the faraway look in his eyes.

A soft gasp was all the warning Harry got before Malfoy came into his arms, coating his hand and their stomachs with stripes of come. Harry milked his orgasm to the last drop, until Malfoy stopped shaking and fell limp and boneless against the mattress.

Harry was also close. His hand moved faster, at an almost brutal pace that was on the edge of pain. He pressed his mouth against Malfoy's, panting hot against Malfoy's lips. Malfoy's tongue slid into Harry's mouth and his fingers covered Harry's, moving up and down on Harry's dick.

It was enough to push Harry over the edge. The violence of his orgasm took him by surprise and he shuddered against Malfoy, moaning into his kiss. His vision flashed white and his heart was pounding so fast it drowned all other noises.

When Harry finally opened his eyes, Malfoy was tucked next to him, his head on Harry's shoulder. His eyes were closed but his irregular breathing showed that he was still awake.

"Hey," Harry whispered. His voice rasped in his throat.

Malfoy didn't even move. His eyes remained closed even as Harry wiped most of the come on his discarded t-shirt, though his eyelids flickered a couple of times.

With a sigh, Harry shifted into a more comfortable position. It wasn't as if he wanted to talk to Malfoy, not really. That would only end in another argument and Harry was way too sleepy for that.

They could talk in the morning. Malfoy's skin had cooled down and was starting to feel clammy, so Harry tugged the covers over the two of them. He let out a big yawn.

He was also still trying to figure out what had happened and how in Merlin's name he'd ended up in bed with Malfoy. It hadn't been an unpleasant experience, quite the contrary, but it did make him question a few fundamental things about himself.

It had been a long day, though, and Harry felt completely emptied by his orgasm. As soon as he closed his eyes, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

\---

Narcissa Malfoy very nearly slammed the door in Harry's face when she saw him.

"You can go," she told the house elf who had opened the door, dismissing her with a cool nod of her head. The elf scurried away, and Harry wished he could do the same. "What do _you_ want?" Narcissa asked, turning to him.

Harry swallowed. "I'm here about your son."

"I've already talked with the Aurors," Narcissa replied stiffly. She stood so as to block the entrance to the manor, one hand on the doorjamb. "I don't know where Draco is."

"Can I come in?"

Narcissa hesitated for just a moment, then stepped back to allow Harry through the door.

Harry stepped inside. He had some misgivings about going to the Malfoy Manor in the first place, but Malfoy had insisted. If Harry hadn't gone, he was worried Malfoy was going to do something stupid to try and contact his mother.

Despite the fact that it was a bright morning, the curtains were drawn so the inside of the manor was gloomy. Narcissa led him down a long corridor and into a small parlour. Wordlessly, she gestured towards a few uncomfortable-looking chairs.

"Er, it's fine, I won't stay long," Harry replied.

Narcissa shrugged and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. She did look a lot like her son, Harry realised. It was something in the way she pursed her mouth whenever she looked at Harry. He couldn't think about Malfoy's mouth though, not with his mother in the room, especially not after last night.

"As I told your colleagues last night," Narcissa said, "I haven't seen Draco since he left for work early last morning." Harry tried to catch a hint of concern in her tone, but her voice was completely devoid of emotion. "He never came home for dinner and he didn't send any messages."

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, er, I know. That last bit is my fault. Malfoy is at my place."

Narcissa stared at him. "You found him?"

"Not precisely. I'm… hiding him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"It's not!" Harry exclaimed. He cast about for something he could say to convince Narcissa. "He did want to send a message straight away, but I thought the Aurors would be keeping an eye on his house, so…"

"They are," Narcissa said. She got up to stand near the windows, pulling aside one of the curtains to glance outside. "They're just outside the gates, looking at every owl going in or out." She sniffed with disdain.

"That's what I thought," Harry muttered. Curse Robards, wasting people's time like this.

"Is he safe?" Narcissa asked, staring out of the window.

"Yes." For the time being, at any rate. He didn't know how long he could hide Malfoy from the Ministry. It had been difficult enough to walk into the office and pretend to know nothing when Robards had told him of Malfoy's disappearance.

Narcissa turned around. Was it Harry's imagination or did she look somewhat relieved? Maybe, after spending so long with Malfoy, he was getting used to noticing minuscule shifts in people's body language.

"What is he being accused of?"

"It's a long story. All you need to know is that he's innocent."

"I know that too," Narcissa replied. "I'm his mother."

There were plenty of mothers who were blind to their sons' criminal activities, but Harry doubted that Narcissa Malfoy was one of them. She seemed entirely too perceptive to make such a judgement error.

There was no need to say anything to Narcissa about keeping this secret, either. This was a woman with plenty of experience with deceiving both Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic. Strangely, it was a comforting thought in the current situation.

"Is this all?" Narcissa asked. "I'm very busy."

"Er, yeah." Harry had expected her to have some questions about Malfoy's situation, but it was better this way. He also had a lot to do, between searching for the Nundu, pretending to search for Malfoy, and keeping Malfoy up to date with the status of the investigation. "Er, Malfoy did ask for a few things."

Narcissa raised one questioning eyebrow.

"Clothes," Harry clarified, hoping his face wasn't getting red. He couldn't help but imagine Malfoy lounging around on his couch, wearing borrowed clothes that were too large at the shoulders and too short at the ankles. It wasn't a bad look on him, especially coupled with his frown when he'd realised that his clothes were rumpled and stained and he'd have to wear something of Harry's. "Also, his toothbrush… a book…"

Narcissa nodded. She glided over to a side table and rang a small silver bell. With a tiny _pop_ , a house elf appeared. Harry thought it was a different elf from before, though she was wearing the same kind of dark green livery.

"Prepare a bag for Master Draco," Narcissa told the elf. "Auror Potter will tell you where to deliver it."

The house elf bowed. "Yes, Mistress."

Harry appreciated her forethought – it would be suspicious if he was seen carrying anything out of the Malfoy Manor, and the house elf could use her magic to slip unnoticed through the surveillance spells that had no doubt been placed.

"Thanks."

Narcissa was already headed towards the door. She halted and turned around. "No," she said, inclining her head. "Thank _you_ , Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to reply but she was already gone.

\---

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Harry snorted. "So you've been saying for the past hour," he told Malfoy. "But I– _we_ need Ron and Hermione's help." He pulled aside the curtain just a fraction so he could look outside. Still nothing.

"I don't see why!" Malfoy was sitting in the middle of Harry's sofa. The rest of the sofa, as well as part of the floor, was covered with notes and pieces of paper. The map of London lay open on the coffee table. "Now that we know where the Nundu is–"

" _If_ your guess is correct," Harry cut in.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's an assumption, not a guess. And it's your best bet if you want to stop the creature before it kills someone else."

"I know that!" Harry exclaimed. Still nothing outside. He crossed the room, navigating around Malfoy's little island of paper and bracing his arms on the back of the couch so he could have a look at the map. "Canary Wharf, huh?"

"It's too bad you couldn't convince Robards," Malfoy said in an undertone.

Even though they were very close, it was almost too dark to see his expression. With his dark shirt and dark trousers, he almost disappeared among the shadows in the room. Harry would have to turn on the lamps soon, since all the curtains were drawn to avoid nosy neighbours.

"Yeah, well," Harry said, shaking his head. "It was my mistake. I shouldn't have led by telling Robards it was you who said the Nundu will strike tonight. After that, he didn't put much stock in anything I was trying to say."

"That was quite stupid of you, Potter," Malfoy agreed.

Harry snorted and leaned forward to glare at Malfoy. "A normal person would have said something like, 'thank you for trying'."

"It was obvious Robards wouldn't trust anything that came from me," Malfoy drawled. "I'm not going to thank you for making it so we don't have any backup from the Auror department."

Harry snorted again. He wished he could lean forward and kiss Malfoy just to shut him up, but he wasn't sure how Malfoy would react to that. They'd gone through the day by pretending nothing had happened last night and the situation was already strained enough without another argument.

Instead he glanced at the map, which now had a large black circle in the middle of it. "We do have some backup," he said. "Ron and Hermione are coming."

"That's assuming that Weasley doesn't arrest me on sight." Malfoy pulled a face. "In case you've forgotten, there is a warrant out for me, and I'm not exactly Weasley's favourite person."

"I'll explain," Harry said, without looking at Malfoy. "He's not as stupid as you think."

"That's not what I was saying…"

"Anyway, I did what you wanted and went to your mother's, so the least you could do now is trust my best friends."

Malfoy was silent for a long moment. Harry could see his frown out of the corner of his eye. "Potter–"

The sound of the doorbell made them both jump.

"That's them," Harry said, pushing himself away from the couch.

There was a flash behind him as Malfoy lit the lamps around the room.

Harry crossed the entryway and opened the door. Ron and Hermione were standing on the front step, wrapped in their cloaks as the weather was turning cold and windy.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, raising a hand in greeting.

"Thanks for having us," Hermione said as they both walked in. "I'm glad you talked me into this, I'm looking forward to a few hours without any talk of work."

"Right," Harry said, remembering the excuse he'd used earlier. He had thought it better not to say anything about Malfoy at the office, as there was a risk of being overheard. "Er…"

Hermione spotted Malfoy's cloak as she hung up hers. "Harry, have you got another dinner guest?" she asked, casting a curious look towards the lights in the living room.

Ron grinned. "Is it a date? Thought you said you didn't have time for that!"

"It's not a date!" Harry blurted out. "Actually, er… it's…"

Malfoy chose that moment to make his appearance. "Evening, Granger," he said, leaning one shoulder against the door to the living room. "Weasley."

Ron's eyes bugged out of his head. Hermione muttered something not very polite.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Ron snarled, taking a step forward.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder, both to keep him from going further and to keep him from drawing his wand. "It's all right, Ron, he's the reason I asked you here."

Hermione was staring alternatively at Harry and Malfoy. "I don't understand. Did you just arrest Malfoy? Why isn't he at the Ministry?"

Harry ran one hand through his hair. "You'd better sit down, I have a lot to tell you."

He ushered them inside the living room. Malfoy stepped back as Ron and Hermione entered the room, giving them a wide berth.

"You have been busy," Hermione said, looking around at the riot of notes and scraps of parchment strewn around.

"My desk upstairs is way too small," Harry huffed, bending down to retrieve some of the notes and tossing them on a corner of the map. "And Malfoy can't bloody well go into the office now."

"You were here all day?" Ron asked Harry. "I hardly saw you but I thought you were out chasing your lead! Not… hiding a fugitive!"

Harry shrugged and sat down in a corner of the sofa. Hermione took the armchair opposite, while Ron and Malfoy remained standing in two corners of the room.

"I was also out chasing leads," Harry said. "Which is why I need your help."

"I'll be happy to help you throw this lowlife in prison," Ron snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at Malfoy.

Malfoy had been staring at the curtained windows, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "We don't have time for your theatrics, Weasley! The sun has already gone down."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron asked, but Hermione's face lit up with comprehension.

"You don't mean… did you figure out when the Nundu will strike?"

"Yes!" Malfoy snapped. "And it's tonight!"

The announcement was greeted with silence. Malfoy stood very still, hands clenched in fists at his sides. Harry glanced from Ron to Hermione.

"Harry," Ron said, very slowly, "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you can't trust what Malfoy is saying…"

Harry turned to Hermione. "Remember when I told you Malfoy knew when the fourth attack would take place? This is the same. Show her!" he said to Malfoy.

"I don't see the point," Malfoy drawled. "Either they believe me or they don't. I don't have any hard evidence to support my findings, it's all conjecture based on observation."

Harry made a frustrated noise. "We've got to convince them…"

Hermione motioned for him to shut up. "Suppose that we believe you," she told Malfoy. "What's going to happen?"

"What?!" Ron exclaimed. "Hermione, you can't mean it! You believe him?"

"I don't, not really," Hermione admitted. "But if Harry thinks this is important, we should at least let them explain. I'll make up my mind after I hear you out," she added, narrowing her eyes at Malfoy.

"Of course," Malfoy replied, smoothly. He took two steps towards the coffee table and, after some hesitation, sat down on the sofa as far as possible from Harry. "Since time is short, I'll be as brief as possible. This," he said, placing the tip of one finger on the map, "is where we'll find the Nundu."

Ron craned his head to read the upside-down text.

"Canary Wharf?" Hermione said. She shot Harry a look. "That doesn't seem very likely. It's a busy place, someone would have noticed a Nundu living there."

"Didn't you check the docks already?" Ron chimed in. "Come to think of it, you said it couldn't be on the north bank…"

"I was wrong," Harry said. "We thought it was in some abandoned place, maybe in a warehouse, but that's not it–"

"It's on a boat," Malfoy said, cutting him off. "It's brilliant, really," he said, tracing the line of the river with a finger. "That way, the boat's captain has access to most of the city. Whenever the Nundu got hungry, he stopped at a different place, so the risk of his boat being associated with the attacks was minimum. He even made sure that the last attack took place away from the Thames, to throw us off."

Hermione clucked her tongue. She followed the path Malfoy was tracing and a small furrow appeared between her eyebrows. "Then how did you figure it out?"

"Good question," Malfoy said. "I'd like to tell you everything in detail, because it was a brilliant bit of geographic profiling on my part–" Harry snorted at that "–but as I already said, _there is no time for that_."

"We know which boat the Nundu is on," Harry said, handing Hermione a roll of parchment. "The _Black Moon_ , a small merchant vessel."

Still frowning, Hermione started reading. It was a log of the _Black Moon_ 's trips in the past few months. "I see where you're coming from: it's been in London on every night the Nundu killed, as well as around the time the ship carrying the Nundu arrived from Africa…"

"Small vessel?" Ron repeated, reading from above Hermione's shoulder. "How small are we talking about? Because you said this Nundu is huge."

"Small enough that it can be crewed by a handful of people," Malfoy replied. "But if they're smugglers, as I suspect, they'll have magically enlarged the hold so they can carry more cargo. There will be plenty of space to hold the beast safely, provided it doesn't trash around."

"What if it does?" Ron asked. "From what I heard, Nundu aren't exactly known for their good temper."

"I never thought I'd say this, Weasley, but you are correct. Under normal circumstances the Nundu would be impossible to manage. However, the _Black Moon_ deals in potion ingredients: asphodel, wormwood, valerian root…"

Hermione nodded. Ron seemed confused. Harry didn't blame him, since that had also been his reaction a few hours before.

"They're ingredients for the Draught of Living Death," Harry explained. "We think they're keeping the Nundu sedated most of the time."

"That's smart," Hermione said. "A potion is much more reliable than stunning the Nundu with a spell."

Malfoy nodded. "Under normal circumstances it would be impossible to administer, since one has to get close to the creature to give it the next dose, but…"

"But if they keep the creature dosed all the time, then it's not too difficult," Hermione concluded.

"It sort of makes sense," Ron said, sullen. "But I don't get it. If you know where the Nundu is, why aren't you there already?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Because we don't know where the Nundu is now."

"What he means," Harry put in, "is that we know the _Black Moon_ is set to make a delivery at midnight in Canary Wharf. Before then, it could be anywhere."

"Great," Ron snorted. "So there's a boat which might or might not carry the Nundu, which might or might not dock tonight…"

"Do you have any better ideas, Weasley?" Malfoy snarled. "Since you obviously know my own case better than me."

" _Our_ case," Harry said.

The three of them glared at each other across the coffee table. Only Hermione still had her head bent down on the map, tracing the lines between the scenes of the various attacks and muttering to herself.

"Assuming your theory is correct, Harry, what are you planning to do?"

"Go there and wait for the boat to arrive. If I can confirm that the Nundu is on board, I can incapacitate the crew and make sure the beast stays sedated."

"Seems risky," Hermione said.

Harry slumped against the sofa's cushions. "Yeah. I was hoping you and Ron would come along."

Hermione gave him a half-smile. "Somehow, I figured that's where this was all headed."

Ron glared at Malfoy. "I don't like it. It's not because of the huge murderous beast, though yeah, I'm not mad about that either. But Harry," he said, striding forward and poking one finger into Malfoy's chest, "what if he's leading you into a trap?"

Malfoy bristled and slapped away Ron's hand. "I'm not–"

"I can't trust him–" Ron said, speaking over him.

"He's not," Harry said, loud enough to cover both of their voices. "He's not leading anyone anywhere. Malfoy is going to stay here."

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Malfoy spluttered. "There's two of us – four if your _friends_ deign to come – and you want me to just sit here and do nothing?"

"It's too dangerous," Harry replied, curt. "Ron, Hermione and I will be enough to handle the crew. If you want to come with me," he added, to the two of them.

"Of course we'll help you!" Ron exclaimed. "Right?"

Hermione nodded. "You can't think we'd let you go on your own."

Harry sighed with relief. He hadn't really been worried about his friends' support, but it was good to hear them say it out loud. "Thank you."

"Haven't you forgotten something?" Malfoy snapped. "Your phenomenal trio might manage to arrest the crew, fair enough, there's only five of them. But what about the Nundu?"

"Like I said," Harry shot back, "the plan is to make sure the beast stays sedated throughout."

"And if it doesn't?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at Harry. It was a fair question, and one he didn't know the answer to. He'd been reading all the material Malfoy found on Nundus, but there was very little on spells used to subdue them. Reports were conflicting too. One book said that no Nundu had never been subjugated by less than a hundred wizards working together, another claimed that a single wizard could control a Nundu.

Harry stared back at Malfoy. "If the Nundu gets free," he said, looking into Malfoy's eyes, "you'd be worse than useless to me in that situation."

"That's the same bullshit excuse Robards used to keep me on the sidelines," Malfoy snapped.

"Under the circumstances? Robards has a point. It's a Nundu!"

Malfoy flinched but didn't back down. "Yes, which is why I should be there, I know more about Nundus than all of you. And what about her?" he added, nodding towards Hermione. "She's not an Auror either!"

"I trust Hermione to have my back," Harry said.

Malfoy was shaking. "And you don't trust me. Fine! You should have just said that!"

He stormed off, leaving Harry to stare at his retreating back.

"Right," Ron said after Malfoy had disappeared through the door, "now that's been taken care of–"

Cursing himself, Harry got to his feet. "Give me a moment," he said.

Malfoy was in the kitchen, head bowed and arms braced against the table. He didn't turn around when Harry entered.

"What do you want?" he asked. His voice was shaking almost as much as his shoulders.

Harry paused a few feet away. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Malfoy snarled. He wiped one hand over his face and turned around.

"Have you been crying?"

"Fuck you, Potter, I have _not_!"

"Stop being so dramatic and listen to me for once!" Harry exclaimed. "I can't let you put yourself in danger."

"Why? You're not my boss."

"No, but–"

"I get that you don’t want me on that boat," Malfoy spat out, "but I can at least stay on the pier and keep an eye on things–"

"No!" Harry almost yelled. "This is the Auror department's fuckup! Ron and I will take care of it. Or do you _want_ to put your life in danger?"

Malfoy hesitated. "I…"

Harry stepped closer. "Please."

Malfoy's breath caught in his throat. Harry kissed him. One of his hands went to the nape of Malfoy's neck, tilting his head slightly, and Malfoy sighed at the touch. Harry closed his eyes as Malfoy wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing himself against him.

There was a startled exclamation. Harry and Malfoy pulled apart to see Ron, standing in the corridor with a stunned expression on his face.

"We heard yelling," Ron said. His eyes were very wide. "We thought you were arguing. _What the fuck?_ "

Malfoy looked away, pressing one hand to his mouth. A furious blush was spreading on his cheeks.

Harry looked from him to Ron, whose mouth was still agape. "Er," he said, searching for words.

"What the fuck, Harry?" Ron repeated.

Malfoy rushed out of the kitchen, shouldering past Ron without even raising his head. Harry heard his footsteps disappear up the stairs.

Harry swore under his breath and leaned against the table. That could have gone better.

Hermione's head poked around the door. "What's going on here?"

"I have no idea," Ron spluttered. "Harry was making out with Malfoy!"

"What?" Hermione said with a grin. Then she saw Harry's expression and the laughter died on her lips. "Oh. You're not joking."

Harry felt like there was a knot in his stomach. "I don't know what's happening with Malfoy," he said, running a hand over his eyes. "I honestly don't know."

There was a long, awkward silence.

"What do you mean, you don’t know?" Ron muttered. "You were all over him. You had your tongue down his throat!"

Hermione made a face. "Ron! I did not need to know that!"

"Sorry. But… I mean… This is Malfoy we're talking about! How…?"

"It's not the first time it happened," Harry muttered.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said.

Ron stared at him from across the room. "Wait, does this mean you're gay? Nothing against you if you are," he blurted out, "but _you dated my sister_! Is this why you split up?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "Me and Ginny, it just didn’t work out! It had nothing to do with…" He swallowed, trying to find the words.

"Ron," Hermione said, "I don't think this is the right time to talk about this."

Harry turned around and traced a whorl on the kitchen table with his finger. "You're right. I just can't get Malfoy out of my mind."

Ron made a face.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "Go on."

"Stop thinking about Malfoy and start thinking about our plan for tonight," she told him. "You're going to catch this Nundu, and then you're going to get a full night's sleep because you look like you need it. Afterwards, you figure out this thing with Malfoy. How does that sound?"

Harry gave her a tired smile. It was the best thing he'd heard in days. "Perfect. I'm glad you're my friend."

"Go fetch Malfoy so he can tell us what he knows," Hermione said, returning the smile. "We don't have much time."

\---

The pier was completely silent. The _Black Moon_ had arrived twenty minutes ago, sliding in place between two Muggle vessels despite an apparent lack of space and lowering an anchor into the murky waters of the Thames. Since then, there had been no sound coming from aboard.

Harry tapped Ron on the arm. "Let's go," he whispered.

By way of answer, Ron squeezed his arm and followed him, crouching low to offer a smaller target in case someone on the boat was observing their approach.

It didn't seem to be the case. They reached the side of the _Black Moon_ without anyone stirring aboard.

The gangplank had not been lowered but a summoning spell remedied that. Harry gritted his teeth as the gangplank slotted into place with a scraping sound of metal on metal. It was loud enough to echo in the otherwise still night, but no cry of alarm came from the boat.

Harry glanced back to the spot where he knew Hermione was waiting for them. If anything happened, she would either try and stop the Nundu from going ashore or she would call for reinforcements. Harry hoped they wouldn't need her help at all.

Motioning to Ron, Harry walked up the gangplank. It swayed under him as the boat rolled around on a few waves. The night was windy.

Ron's footsteps echoed behind Harry's. They had decided that it would be safer to stick together, so once on board they bumped around in the dark, searching for the way below deck.

"I don't like this," Ron hissed in Harry's ear. "Where's everyone?"

"Don't know," Harry whispered back. It was uncanny that they had seen no sign of the crew so far.

Stumbling around, they found a small hatch, and beyond that a few steps leading down. Inside, it was pitch black.

"Lumos," Harry murmured, and a tiny pinpoint of light appeared on the tip of his wand.

"Is that safe?" Ron muttered, taking a look around. His wand was raised. They were in a narrow passage with doors on either end. The passage continued ahead into the darkness.

Harry shrugged, raising his arms to try and see further. "Nundus have perfect night vision, so we might as well."

"What about the crew?"

"That's what I'm wondering."

He reached the first door and pushed it open to reveal a tiny cabin with two bunk beds. A trunk lay open in a corner. Harry bent over it and retrieved two large flasks, one of which was still half full of a dense liquid.

"Draught of Living Death," Ron read from the label. "You were right."

"But where's everyone?"

They backed out of the cabin and searched the other rooms off the passage, with no results. All the rooms were empty, nothing seemed to be in disarray. It was as if the crew had just stepped out for a moment.

The only noises were made by the boat, which creaked and rolled about whenever a wave hit the stern.

At the other end of the passage they found a locked metal door.

"The cargo bay," Harry muttered, stepping aside so Ron could unlock it with a whispered Alohomora.

They stepped into a tall, vaulted room, much larger than the _Black Moon_ was on the outside. Harry and Ron advanced slowly, wands raised. Harry's wand cast a pale yellow light on the scene. Crates and sacks of what smelled like aromatic herbs blocked the way, making their progress slow and winding.

The two of them were halfway through the cargo bay, by Harry's estimation, when they heard a low sound coming from the shadows on their left.

"The Nundu?" Ron muttered, turning sideways and peering into the darkness.

Harry took a step forward, wand held higher. Nundus, he remembered, were famous for being completely silent.

The sound echoed again from the darkness.

"Down there," Harry said, lowering his wand, and then he saw it.

Two people lay sprawled on the metal floor. One was obviously dead, the other very nearly so, judging by the blood pooled under his body. The man's arm had been torn away and he was barely conscious.

Ron made a gagging sound.

"Staunch the wound," Harry said, raising his wand again to cast some light into the darkness.

There was a flash of pale blue light as Ron did so, followed by an acrid smell. The wounded man fell silent.

"At least now we know what happened to the crew," Ron said. He sounded queasy. "He needs a Healer, he's in too bad a shape for us to help."

Harry was barely paying him attention. "Where's the Nundu?" he muttered.

They walked slowly across the hold, standing back to back so the beast couldn't pounce on them from behind.

Harry's heart was beating madly in his chest. It wasn't the danger that scared him – he'd been in plenty of dangerous situations in his life – but there was something frightfully primeval in being stalked from the shadows by a soundless predator.

"You don't think it managed to get off the boat?" Ron said once they were at the other end of the cargo bay. "If it's out there… Hermione…"

"No," Harry replied. "It can't have gone out the way we came in, that passage is too narrow." He pointed towards a large opening on the ceiling, which was blocked by a large iron grate. "That's the only way in or out for the Nundu, which means it's still around somewhere."

"Great," Ron said. "I love being trapped in the dark with a ravenous beast."

Harry knelt down to examine a large smear of blood on the floor. "There's another body over there," he said. "It looks like the crew completely lost control of it. I wonder what happened."

"I don't," Ron said. "They were bad people and I don't particularly feel sorry for them. I just wish they hadn't let that thing loose just before we arrived!"

"Let's get out of here," Harry said, pushing himself to his feet. "We have enough to call for reinforcements–"

It came out of nowhere, pouncing on him without making a sound. Harry yelled as he felt sharp claws slicing into his side.

"Stupefy!" he cried as he fell to the floor.

The spell crashed into a pile of crates, splintering them. The room fell into darkness and Ron hastened to light his own wand.

"It's gone!" he said, waving his wand around frantically. "Harry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied, pressing his left hand against his side. He could feel blood trickling between his fingers.

Ron helped him push himself to his feet, all the while keeping an eye on their surroundings. "You were saying about reinforcements?"

Aiming at the metal grate overhead, Harry let out a stream of red sparks from the end of his wand. They would get hell from their boss if they attracted the attention of Muggles, but at the moment it was the last of their worries.

"Let's go," Harry said. He took a step forward, flinching at the lancing pain in his side.

"Harry," Ron said in an undertone, putting his hand on Harry's arm. He pointed upwards.

The Nundu was perched on a mountain of crates, looking down on them with eyes as black as midnight. It looked like a giant black leopard. Its long tail was undulating back and forth without a single sound.

"What do we do?" Ron murmured, eyes glued on the Nundu.

Harry wished he knew. "Back away," he said. "Slowly."

They did so, one step at a time, walking backwards so as to keep an eye on the beast. The Nundu watched them from its perch but didn't move. They put a few dozen feet between them and the creature. Harry's heart stopped whenever the Nundu disappeared from sight as they turned a corner but it remained still where it was, at the edge of the circle of light cast by Harry's wand.

Almost to the door, Harry thought. If they could reach the exit, they would leave and wait for the reinforcements that Hermione had no doubt already called after seeing their distress signal. They had almost done it.

Then, without warning, the Nundu leaped. Ron cried out but the beast wasn't pouncing on them: it was throwing itself against the metal grating that covered the cargo bay from above. The boat rocked from the impact.

"No!" Harry yelled, jumping forward. He could see already that some of the rivets on one side had been sliced through by the Nundu's claws.

Harry cast two stunning spells in quick succession, which the Nundu dodged by leaping aside. It threw itself against the grating again and Harry heard a loud crack as the metal broke in several places.

"It's getting away!" Ron yelled.

Harry was already pushing open the door to the stairs, climbing the steps two at a time.

"Lumos!" he exclaimed as he reached the deck. In the light cast by his wand and Ron's, he could see the Nundu trying to climb out of the cargo bay.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried from somewhere in the distance. "What's happening?"

"It killed the crew," Harry yelled back. "It's trying to escape!"

"Then get out of there!" Hermione replied. "Aurors are on their way."

They ran to the side of the boat, Harry half limping from his wound. Hermione stood on the pier, wand drawn, making urgent gestures with one hand. Next to her stood Draco Malfoy.

"What's he doing here?!" Harry exclaimed.

"This is not the time," Malfoy said. He was pale but his voice sounded steady. "Hurry up!"

Just then a stronger shock rocked the _Black Moon_ , making Ron and Harry fall over each other. Harry stumbled forward against a rope coiled on the deck. Ron grabbed the railing to stay upright.

The Nundu had broken through the grating that was trapping it inside. It leaped above deck and landed with barely a sound. Outside, it was almost as large as the whole boat.

Harry pushed himself up on his elbow. "On the count of three," he said. "One… Two… Stupefy!"

Three jets of red light shot from the tips of their wands, followed by a fourth that must have been Malfoy's.

The Nundu reeled but didn't fall over. It leaped from the boat, jumping gracefully over the side, and there were startled exclamations from Hermione and Malfoy.

Cursing under his breath, Harry pushed himself to his feet. Ron was already rushing down the gangplank. The Nundu stood in the middle of the pier, stalking back and forth between Hermione and Malfoy.

Harry's blood ran cold. "Ron, be careful!" he called out.

"I know!" Ron replied. He sounded just as unnerved as Harry felt.

Ron moved towards Hermione, circling clockwise around the Nundu. Harry went slowly down the gangplank, bracing himself against the railing. The blood loss was starting to make him dizzy. They had the beast cornered, but it didn't seem willing to stay put until the arrival of the other Aurors.

The Nundu turned around in a small circle. It looked around, sniffing the air, and then its eyes fixed on Malfoy. It could sense the fear on him, Harry thought.

Malfoy was shaking like a leaf. Why the hell had he come? Predators always went for the weakest one in a group.

Then the Nundu turned around and pounced on Harry. He raised his wand but his movements were sluggish and he couldn't get a spell out. Stupid, Harry thought as the beast leaped on him, _he_ was the weak link here. He'd been running on adrenaline but who knew how much blood he had already lost.

Two hexes hit the Nundu on its side. It baulked but didn't stop its charge. It barrelled into Harry at full speed and Harry would have been sliced apart by its claws if he hadn't rolled aside at the last moment. He hit the ground hard and felt something in his shoulder give.

The Nundu turned around and fixed its midnight eyes on Harry.

Hermione cried out but it was Malfoy who ran to Harry's side, throwing himself between Harry and the beast.

"What are you doing?" Harry yelled, trying to push himself to his knees.

Malfoy wrapped one arm around Harry's shoulders and pointed his wand at the Nundu. His arm was shaking badly.

"Malfoy," Harry managed to spit out from between gritted teeth, "get away!"

"Impedimenta!" Malfoy cried as the Nundu pounced. The spell hit the beast squarely on the legs but it was too weak to be effective. The Nundu stumbled but it still had enough momentum to careen into them.

"Stupefy!" Harry cried out.

The spell landed with a crack. The Nundu stumbled, but it was already towering over them. Long, blood-stained claws glinted in the moonlight.

Harry was struggling to remain conscious. Malfoy pressed himself against him and fired off another spell.

The towering silhouette of the Nundu blocked out all light.

"Stupefy!" Ron and Hermione yelled. The Nundu shuddered and started to turn. It stumbled and fell sideways, just barely missing Harry and Malfoy.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes open. He cried out weakly as someone pressed a hand to his bleeding side.

"Harry!" Hermione was yelling. "Harry!"

He slipped into unconsciousness.

\---

The Dai Llewellyn Ward for Creature-Induced Injuries was quiet in the afternoons. Harry lay back against the pillows with his eyes closed but couldn't fall asleep. He'd been doing too much of that in the past few days and the forced inactivity was starting to grate on his nerves.

He turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone pulled aside the curtain around his bed.

"Hello, Harry," said Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Minister," Harry said, trying to push himself into a sitting position.

Shacklebolt motioned for him to remain where he was. "Don't strain yourself. Healer Brocklehurst said the Nundu almost took a chunk of you." He conjured a chair next to Harry's bed and sat down.

Harry looked down at the bandages swathing most of his chest. "It looks worse than it is. I'm hoping to get discharged soon."

"Don't rush it," Shacklebolt advised him. "Take your time, the Auror office can manage without you for a few more days."

"Yes, sir."

Harry waited for Shacklebolt to say something else, but the Minister turned aside to examine the various flower arrangements on Harry's bedside. Ron and Hermione had given him something, as many of his colleagues had too. Kestrel had brought a small round cactus. The family of Prudence Endicott had sent a thank you note.

"Sir," Harry said eventually, "what's going to happen to me?"

Shacklebolt picked up the cactus and turned it around in his hands. "Hm? What do you mean?"

Harry took a long breath. "I broke the law by hiding Malfoy and helping him escape arrest. Even though he was innocent," he added with a pointed look.

"You also took a huge risk by going to the _Black Moon_ on your own instead of following protocol," Shacklebolt said.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I acted as I thought best. But I know I broke the law and I don't expect to receive preferential treatment for it."

Shacklebolt sighed. "And yet, Harry, preferential treatment is what you're going to get."

Harry was silent.

"Harry," Shacklebolt said, "have you been keeping up with the news?"

"I read the titles on the front page."

Whenever he tried to actually read one of the _Prophet_ 's articles, he got so angry that Healer Brocklehurst had to take away the paper. The _Prophet_ wrote as if they had no doubt that the Aurors would catch the rogue Nundu, as if they hadn't nearly incited a riot at the Ministry by accusing them of incompetence.

Shacklebolt nodded as if he knew precisely what Harry was thinking. "Then you'll know that, once again, you are a hero to the people. The _Daily Prophet_ can't stop praising you."

Harry frowned. "Does this mean I won't get disciplined for what I did?"

"Correct," Shacklebolt replied. "Even if I wanted to, and I'm not sure I do, the public wouldn't take it well. I'm not usually one for favouritism, but in this case it seems to me as if the simplest solution is to drop the matter entirely."

"It doesn't really seem fair," Harry said, "just because it's me."

Shacklebolt shrugged but didn't deny it.

"What about Malfoy?" Harry muttered, staring down at his bandages. "Is he getting cleared of all charges too?"

"Yes. Didn't Hermione tell you?"

Harry looked up sharply.

"Don't be so surprised," Shacklebolt said. "It took me only a couple of minutes talking with him to realise that he had nothing to do with the whole thing. I still can't believe why Robards thought he could be involved in trafficking a Nundu – what a blunder!"

Harry didn't comment on that. "What about his job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"He's keeping it, as far as I know," Shacklebolt said. "Though it's almost a waste to have him stuck in the Beast Division. He did an excellent job coordinating with the Ethiopian and Djiboutian authorities to have the Nundu transported back to its habitat."

"Good," Harry said. "That's – good. Do you know what happened to the crew? Were there any survivors?"

"Just one," Shacklebolt said. "He woke up long enough to confirm what you and Malfoy had already guessed, but they're keeping him sedated most of the time. I'm afraid he's not strong enough to stand trial. In fact I'm on my way to talk to Chief Healer Smethwyck about admitting him to the long-term ward."

It hit Harry then that the case was over. While he'd been sleeping in his hospital bed, the case had been neatly wrapped up.

Shacklebolt gave him a critical look. "You still look pale. I shouldn't be talking to you about work, Healer Brocklehurst will kick me out."

"She wouldn't dare," Harry said with a weak grin.

"You underestimate her," Shacklebolt said. "In fact, I think I see her coming now. I should go and let you rest."

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I'm not tired at all.

But Shacklebolt was already getting up. "Get some rest," he repeated.

Harry sank back into his pillows.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he fell asleep.

\---

Ron and Hermione brought Rose with them on their visit. She bounced on Ron's knee, telling nonsensical stories to her toy dragon.

"Are you sure you'll be fine getting discharged tomorrow?" Hermione asked. "I talked to your Healer and she said she advised you to stay here at least another week."

"I'm fine!" Harry said, louder than he meant to. Rose turned around to give him a curious look. "I'm sorry," he told Hermione, rubbing his eyes, "it's just that I'm tired of everyone asking the same question. My wound is closed, I've slept almost the entire week and I've eaten more healthy meals than I can stomach."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "I hear you," he said. Like all Aurors, he'd spent a few days in St Mungo's at one time or another. "Why do they need to boil everything? It's awful."

Hermione gave Harry a penetrating look. "Is this what it's all about? Boredom and vegetables?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

She didn't answer the question directly. "You haven't been talking to Malfoy."

Harry's heartbeat sped up. "How do you know he hasn't visited?"

"He said so," Ron chimed in. "Asked me how you were doing a couple of days ago. I, er, might have told him to ask you himself if he really cared." The tips of his ears were turning red. "But he said he was too busy to visit."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "I haven't seen him since that night."

He tried to affect a casual tone but something must have shown on his face since Ron busied himself in tying Rose's shoelace and Hermione gave him an overly bright smile. "He must have a lot on his plate," she said. "Ron says he's taking care of wrapping up the case, writing all the reports and everything."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Shacklebolt mentioned something about it when he was here."

Ron pulled a face. "Isn't this just typical? The bloody Minister for Magic came to visit you! When _I_ was in St Mungo's, the only visitor I got was my mum and she spent the time nagging me."

Harry gave him a strained grin. "What about me and Hermione?"

"Right, you visited too," Ron said. "Hermione also nagged me to no end."

Hermione gave him an exasperated look but reached out to take his hand. Harry looked away. Suddenly he felt a pang in his side that had nothing to do with the Nundu.

"I expect Malfoy will be glad to get out of being a liaison," Harry muttered. "He can go back to the Beast Division now."

"Harry…"

"It's fine," Harry said before Hermione could continue. "I have no idea what we were thinking, really – we were both stressed out from the case – adrenaline running high and all that."

"Just what exactly did you…" Ron began before trailing off. "Never mind, I'm sure I don't want to know."

Harry cleared his throat. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." He stared down at the crisp white bedsheets, searching for the right words. "I've had a lot of time to think since I got here. You're my best friends, you should know."

"Go on then," Ron said.

"Malfoy isn't even the first man I fancied."

"Ew," Ron said. "I mean," he added, as Hermione shot him a dirty look, "Malfoy is ew, not you liking men. That's fine. That's totally fine with me."

"Of course it is," Hermione said. "But, Harry, why didn't you say something? All these years…!"

"I didn't think it meant anything," Harry said with a shrug. "Because I also liked Ginny and – and Cho Chang, and all the other girls I dated. So I figured I was straight! Straight blokes sometimes look at other blokes, right?"

"Not with the idea of making out with them, they don't," Ron said, shaking his head.

"So I'm starting to realise," Harry muttered. He was feeling like a proper idiot, though a lot of things were now making sense, like the weird crush he'd had on Cedric Diggory years ago.

"Why Malfoy of all people?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose.

"He's not like you think. He's changed since we were in school. He cares about his job, and he's good at it!"

"But you're always arguing at the office!"

"I know! I keep wanting to hex him and kiss him at the same time – it's driving me nuts!"

Ron gagged.

"It's over now anyway," Harry said with a shake of his head. "It's not as if I've been thinking about getting together with him, or anything of the sort. Can you even imagine it? We'd be terrible, we argue every time we're in the same room!"

He glanced at his friends. Ron was nodding in agreement but Hermione didn't seem convinced.

"He did seem to care a lot for you," she said. "When he showed up on the pier…"

"If he cared, he would have found the time to visit," Harry said, curt.

"Well," Hermione said, "if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Harry said, leaning back on the pillows. "It's better this way. No fuss. No drama." If he repeated it often enough, maybe he'd convince himself that it was the truth.

\---

It was late in the morning by the time Harry got discharged. The Healers had insisted on running more tests, until Harry thought he would be sick just from their poking and prodding, but they'd finally given him a clean bill of health.

Earlier it had been raining, but the sun was shining brightly when Harry stepped out of St Mungo's. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, tilting up his face up to enjoy the warmth. It was a welcome sensation after a week of being shut indoors and several cloudy days before that.

He had been advised to rest for at least another week, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to stop by the office and see how things were going. It wasn't a long walk to the Ministry, and Harry felt the need to stretch his legs after being cooped up for so long. There would be plenty of time for him to rest in the afternoon.

When Harry walked in, the Auror office erupted into a loud cheer. Many of his colleagues had visited him in the hospital, and they'd also heard the story from Ron several times, but they still insisted that Harry recount all details about discovering and fighting the Nundu. Everyone agreed that it would be one of the department's most memorable cases.

There was also some good-natured ribbing about him and his friends keeping all the fun to themselves, and only calling reinforcements after the Nundu had been defeated. Harry took it in stride.

He could see that his colleagues weren't really upset about being kept out of the investigation, which was a relief since he didn't want to antagonise any of them; he simply hadn't known whether they would defy Robards' orders. There was talk that Robards would retire at the end of the year, which was a relief – Harry didn't think he would be able to work under the man effectively in the future.

As Harry made his way to the floor, Mountjoy approached Harry and apologised for what he called his spectacular lack of judgement. "I should have trusted you when you said he was all right," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

They shook hands, with much relief on Harry's part. "You did what you thought best," Harry told him. "If our positions were reversed, I'm not sure I'd have believed me either."

Harry didn't mention Malfoy out loud, but he noticed his absence from the crowd of well-wishers. Even Malfoy's desk was empty, when Harry finally made his way to his cubicle. Everything was gone, without even a single library book to mark Malfoy's presence.

Harry wasn't sure why he'd thought it would be otherwise. He knew that Malfoy's job as a liaison was over, so there was no reason for him to stay. Even so, part of him expected to find Malfoy at his desk, head bent over the map of London that had been the focus of his attention for so many hours in the past weeks. The map, Harry realised, was probably even now still in his living room.

The only signs of Malfoy's presence were a few rolls of parchment piled in Harry's In tray. There was a note accompanying them, written in Malfoy's slanted hand. It was unsigned and as impersonal as it could be, stating that he'd taken the liberty of writing the report about their capture of the Nundu, as well as a summary of the entire case.

Harry read the note twice, then tossed it in the bin and checked the rolls of parchment. Everything looked perfect, with the appropriate references and sections neatly labelled. All that was left to do was to archive them.

That was it then, Harry thought. It was really over.

He walked home, taking advantage of the sunny weather. Halfway through he started breathing hard, and as he approached his street he was almost wheezing. After a week in bed, Harry felt he had rather overestimated his strength. At least he hadn't Apparated – it would have been embarrassing to splinch himself because he had overworked his body.

Turning into his street, Harry saw that there was someone in front of his door. It was Malfoy, pacing up and down with a stern expression on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry asked by way of greeting.

"Waiting for you," Malfoy said with a haughty look. "What are _you_ doing? You look horrible. You just got out of St Mungo's, you should be resting."

"Thanks," Harry snorted.

Malfoy, worse luck, looked great. Harry stepped past him to unlock the front door. He didn't know why Malfoy had come and wasn't sure it would be a conversation he wanted to have. He glanced back at Malfoy who was standing by without saying anything.

"Come in," Harry sighed, shouldering open the door.

"Right," Malfoy said, following him inside. "It's probably best if we don't talk out here, your neighbour already stopped by twice to ask me what I was doing here."

"Yeah, he's nosy. Did you wait long?"

Malfoy hesitated. "No, just a few minutes."

"Right."

They stared at each other across the corridor.

"Should you even be out of the hospital?" Malfoy asked with a sniff.

Harry headed towards the living room. "They did discharge me," he said, drawing open the curtains to let the light in.

The living room was still a mess, with maps and notes from the case strewn everywhere. He had forgotten that he had left the place looking like that. Harry shoved most of the crap off the sofa with a sweep of his arm and fell down on the cushions.

Malfoy, who had followed him, wrinkled his nose and waved his wand. The notes started to sort themselves into neat piles.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked.

Malfoy didn't answer immediately. When he did, he turned his back to Harry so his expression couldn't be seen. "I left some things here," he muttered. "From, er, when I, you know."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back. Of course, he thought, that was why he'd come – to get his clothes back. He was probably too embarrassed to send a house elf to collect them since they were stained with come.

"Your clothes are upstairs. I never got around to washing anything."

Harry heard a rustle of paper as Malfoy tidied up and started folding the map. He wished Malfoy would just stop that and leave.

"It's fine," Malfoy said. "I'll go get everything if you tell me where you put them."

"Somewhere upstairs." Harry didn't even bother to open his eyes. Had it really been just a week ago? It seemed like a hundred years since he'd kissed Malfoy in that same room. "Just go, I'll wash everything and bring it to you at work. Beast Division's on Level Five, right?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know!"

Malfoy's tone was so sharp that Harry's eyes flew open. "What do you mean?"

"You know what happened!"

Harry frowned. "No, I _don't_. Wait, did you get sacked?! Shacklebolt said–"

"No!" Malfoy yelled. "I got transferred to Magical Law Enforcement, starting tomorrow. You mean to tell me you had nothing to do with it?"

"This is the first I'm hearing _anything_ about it."

"You're lying! Do you think it's a coincidence that right after I sleep with you I get a cushy position? I don't need you to pull any strings for me!"

"You're out of your mind if you think the two of us fucking had anything to do with it," Harry snapped. "Merlin's sake, I was in St Mungo's all week!"

"Then it was your friend Granger again, doing your dirty work – I'm right, am I not?"

It _had_ been Hermione's doing, Harry realised with a start. She had been praising Malfoy's work on the case, and she had enough clout in the Ministry to push for Malfoy's transfer.

"Hermione would never saddle her department with someone incompetent just to do me a favour!" Harry snarled. "Have you thought that maybe, _just maybe_ , you got transferred because you're _good at your job_?"

Malfoy was stunned into silence for a moment. "So you didn't…"

"Like I'd ever recommend you to anyone. You're a pain in the arse to work with, Malfoy."

"Same goes for you, Potter." Malfoy dropped the last stack of notes on the coffee table. Everything had been tidied up. "I'll get going then."

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position and watched Malfoy's retreating back. He was still seething from the argument, but there was something he had to get off his chest.

"Malfoy?" he called. Malfoy was already in the corridor. His footsteps paused, and Harry took a deep breath. "Thanks for saving my life."

There was silence for a while, so long that Harry thought maybe Malfoy had left after all. Then Malfoy appeared on the door, leaning one shoulder against the frame.

"You're joking, right?" Malfoy's face was dark.

Harry leaned against the cushions and stared at him. "I'm not. Why do you have to argue even when I'm trying to say thank you?"

"Because," Malfoy snapped, advancing on him, "you were right! I was worse than useless in a fight!"

"Malfoy…"

"No need to rub it in my face," Malfoy snarled. "I know! I stood there like a chump while Weasley and Granger took down the Nundu. Happy? I've said it."

"You tried to fight," Harry reminded him.

"And I wasn't any good!" Malfoy yelled. "So what difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference to me!" Harry yelled back.

Malfoy stared at him, stunned. Harry's hand shot out and grabbed Malfoy's wrist, holding tight when Malfoy jerked his arm back to try and break free from his grip. Malfoy's pulse was beating rabbit-fast under Harry's fingers.

"Let me go!" Malfoy said. And then again, almost in a whisper, "Let me go."

Harry stared into his grey eyes, dragging his thumb over Malfoy's palm.

Malfoy swallowed convulsively. "I thought you were going to die. I thought the Nundu was going to kill you, because of me."

"It wouldn't have been your fault," Harry said, pulling him closer.

"I know that!" Malfoy snapped. "But it still would have been because of _me_. Because _I_ was involved–"

Harry's hand moved to cup Malfoy's face. "I'm not that easy to kill."

Malfoy's eyes fluttered closed as Harry leaned forward to kiss him. He sighed against Harry's lips and wrapped his arms against Harry's shoulders, climbing into his lap. Harry moaned into Malfoy's mouth.

"Potter," Malfoy murmured in a low tone as their groins pushed together. Suddenly Harry felt very awake.

Malfoy's fingers slipped past the edge of Harry's t-shirt, brushing against the bandage underneath. "Does it hurt?" he murmured against Harry's lips.

"No," Harry said, raising his arms so Malfoy could remove his t-shirt. He had to grit his teeth as his still-tender shoulder complained, but it was worth it to have Malfoy running his hands over the bare skin above the bandage. His touch was cool and feather-light. Harry leaned into it.

"This looks painful," Malfoy murmured, bowing his head to trail kisses over a large bruise on Harry's collarbone.

Harry placed one hand on the back of Malfoy's neck, holding him close. His hair smelled of chamomile. It shone like white gold in the blazing sunlight streaming in from the window.

Harry's side was still a little sore but he couldn't tell Malfoy to stop. Before, kissing Malfoy had been almost a continuation of their arguments. Malfoy had been rough and demanding. Now, Malfoy was kissing him so slowly, Harry thought he could die from want.

Malfoy pressed a trail of kisses over Harry's neck and jawline. His body felt soft and pliant in Harry's arms. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, one teasing button at a time. Harry helped him push it down his shoulders.

Malfoy's skin would have been almost as pale as the fabric, if not for the deep flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. Harry ran his fingers down Malfoy's spine, tracing each ridge, and Malfoy arched into the touch. When Harry's hands slid down to cup Malfoy's arse, squeezing lightly, Malfoy shivered and pressed himself down on Harry. His breath burned hot against the side of Harry's neck.

Harry pulled him into a messy kiss. Malfoy panted into his mouth as Harry's fingers slipped past the elastic of his briefs, teasing.

They should move to a bed, Harry thought, but he couldn't bring himself to break away from the kiss, not even for a moment. It was too perfect. He'd never seen Malfoy looking like that, with his defences completely down. Harry pushed his hips against Malfoy's and felt Malfoy's low moan with his entire body.

Malfoy's eyes were half closed, his lashes casting long shadows against his cheek. His long body undulated against Harry as Harry licked into his mouth. He ran one hand down Harry's abs, causing him to gasp.

"Potter… _Harry_." The name, spoken in a breathless whisper, sounded strange on his lips. "Tell me if I'm hurting you."

Harry thrust his hips upwards. "You're not. Don't stop."

"I need… Can I…?" Malfoy's voice was almost inaudible as he trembled against him.

Harry put a steadying hand on Malfoy's hip. "Anything."

Malfoy was already unbuttoning his trousers, rising from Harry's lap just long enough to push them down his legs along with his underwear. His dick was already hard and leaking precome against his stomach. Harry tugged Malfoy into his lap again and wrapped his fingers around his erection.

A few slow strokes were enough to reduce him to incoherent moans. He bucked into Harry's touch, throwing back his head to expose the line of his throat. Harry pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. He ran his thumb over Malfoy's slit, eliciting a long, drawn-out moan.

"W-wait," Malfoy stuttered, grabbing Harry's hand to halt it. "Not yet."

He gently pushed Harry back against the pillows and fumbled for his wand. He whispered a spell Harry had never heard of, which coated his fingers in a slick, shiny substance.

Harry watched, fascinated, as Malfoy braced one arm against the back of the sofa and slipped the other hand between his spread legs. His eyes slid down Malfoy's body, to the point where Malfoy's slicked finger pressed against his entrance, and then up again to watch Malfoy's expression.

Malfoy held Harry's stare as he slowly pressed one finger inside himself. Harry concentrated on all the little details – the crease between his eyebrows, the way his breath hitched on every exhale. His pupils were blown wide, his kiss-swollen lips slightly parted as he worked himself open.

Harry's hands settled on Malfoy's thighs, steadying him as he swayed back and forth. His thumbs traced butterfly patterns on Malfoy's skin. Malfoy's dick jumped at the touch.

"Not yet," Malfoy said in a breath, shifting his position so he could press more fingers inside. He closed his eyes. "Don't make me come just yet."

"I want to see you come," Harry murmured. His hands slid further up Malfoy's legs until they were brushing against Malfoy's groin.

Malfoy was moaning loudly now. He leaned forward to press his forehead against Harry's. "Not… yet." His throat worked soundlessly for a moment, then he opened his eyes a fraction, looking at Harry from between his eyelashes. "I want to come with you inside me."

Harry growled low in his throat and pulled Malfoy in for a slow, messy kiss. His own dick was pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. Malfoy whimpered against Harry's lips as he opened himself on his fingers. Harry pressed the heel of his hand down on his dick, trying to take the edge off. His breath mingled with Malfoy's.

Malfoy's hips twisted and he groaned out loud, swaying against Harry. Slowly he withdrew his hand and for a moment he stood still, struggling to regain his breath.

"Are you okay?" Harry murmured. His hands were tracing small circles on Malfoy's skin.

Malfoy just nodded, still panting hard. He bowed his head and started fumbling with Harry's belt. Together they unzipped Harry's jeans and pushed them a few inches down his hips.

When Malfoy's fingers wrapped around Harry's dick, Harry moaned. His head fell back as Malfoy stroked him once, twice, until his dick was coated in lubricant. Malfoy positioned himself so the tip of Harry's dick pressed against his entrance. Harry's chest rose and fell rapidly as Malfoy swayed his hips, pressing down on him.

The sensation of Malfoy sinking on him was almost too much at first. Harry bit back a gasp and wrapped his arms around Malfoy to steady himself. He almost thought he would come on the spot, so intense was the feeling.

Malfoy moved slowly, one torturous inch at a time, until Harry's dick was fully sheathed inside him. Harry swallowed – Malfoy felt hot and impossibly tight around him. "Still okay?"

Malfoy breathed out, and just that tiny movement sent shivers of pleasure down Harry's cock. "I'm – I'm fine. What about you? Your wound…"

Harry bit down on his lower lip as Malfoy's fingers brushed against his bandage. "Doesn't hurt." Nothing else mattered, only the feeling of his dick buried inside Malfoy. "Can I move?"

Malfoy's skin was flushed scarlet, his breathing was rough. He wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. "Let me." He moved slowly, raising his hips and then swaying back to grind against Harry. A few long strands of hair fell in front of his eyes.

Harry bit back a groan. He pressed his mouth against Malfoy's shoulder, panting against his skin as Malfoy moved against him. Malfoy was trembling in Harry's arms and his skin was covered by a slight sheen of sweat.

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin and low, needy moans. Malfoy moved slowly, almost pulling out completely before sinking back on Harry. His dick, trapped between their stomach, was leaking a trail of precome. Harry wrapped one hand around it, stroking Malfoy in time with his thrusts.

Malfoy leaned forward for a kiss, but they were both so far gone that all they could do was press their lips together, breathing hard into the same space.

Malfoy clung to Harry almost desperately as his rhythm started to falter, but it was Harry who couldn't hold back. He cried out as he felt his orgasm mount. Malfoy's hips ground down and Harry's vision went black as he broke apart with a shudder.

Harry came in hot spurts, deep inside Malfoy. He could feel Malfoy shudder around him, and then Malfoy was spilling over Harry's stomach. Still shaking, Harry stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring nonsense against his lips, pressing wet kisses along his cheekbones.

They slipped sideways and fell over the cushions, with Malfoy on top of Harry. Harry's whole body felt heavy with a mix of exhaustion and bone-deep satisfaction. His dick was still buried inside Malfoy. He wanted to stay like that forever, but even though Malfoy wasn't saying anything, it couldn't be comfortable for him.

After his heartbeat returned to something resembling normal, Harry slid out of Malfoy, as gently as he could. Malfoy hissed at the sensation and his fingers curled around Harry's biceps. A thin trail of come was dripping down his thighs. Harry traced it with a thumb and Malfoy gave a shaky sigh.

Instead of vanishing the come, Harry summoned a wet towel and took his time cleaning Malfoy, dragging the towel slowly over the sensitive skin. Malfoy gazed at him as he did so, his lips slightly parted, letting out tiny moans whenever Harry's fingers lingered on a particularly sensitive spot.

Harry cleaned him as thoroughly as he could, until Malfoy's skin was so oversensitive that he writhed under Harry's touch and swatted his hands away, then towelled himself clean and dropped the soiled cloth aside.

Malfoy settled down on his side, leaning his head against Harry's unwounded shoulder. His eyes were half-closed and he had a faraway look on his face.

Harry pulled him closer, throwing one leg over Malfoy's, and stared at the play of light over Malfoy's face. He knew that this moment of peace wouldn't last – they were both languid from their orgasm but soon enough they would start arguing over something.

They should talk, Harry thought. Hermione was right. The two of them had to sit down and figure out what was going on between them. They couldn't keep falling into bed – pleasurable as that was – and then pretend nothing had happened.

Malfoy blinked at him sleepily. "Why are you making that face?"

"Nothing," Harry hastened to say. His breath caught in his throat as Malfoy snuggled closer, bare skin slipping against bare skin. He draped one arm over Malfoy's chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm. "I just, er. Do you want to spend the night?"

Malfoy tilted his head to stare at him. "It's not even noon."

"I know. So, do you…?" He held his breath as Malfoy thought about it.

"Yes," he said eventually, settling back against Harry's chest. He pressed his face in the hollow of Harry's neck, so that his answer was barely audible. "Yes, I'll stay the night."

Harry grinned. There would be plenty of time later for talking and for arguing. In the meantime, he would snatch as many moments of quiet as he could. Malfoy was comfortably warm next to him and his breath was already slowing down as he dozed off.

Harry brushed a kiss against Malfoy's temple and was asleep within seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/121485.html).


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